Prompts: Hurt Sam, Sick Sam
by HPslashSPNLuver92
Summary: To get myself back into shape, I'll accept prompts for Hurt!Sam, Sick!Sam. Please read the first chapter for explanation and rules. NO SLASH IN HERE!
1. Chapter 1

Hey, everyone!  
First of all, I'd like to apologize for being absent for so long. Real life has been a bitch for the past months - maybe even years - and I haven't been in the right mindset for some time now to continue writing stories. I was writing snippets of ideas down, but not for my existing stories and they're a little racier than what I've been writing before. However, starting from March, I'm gonna be spending some time to myself at home, trying to gather myself back together - and that involves writing.  
So, an idea to get me back on solid ground has taken root in my head. I saw others do this and I think it would be a great way to return into my writer skin - and maybe get Sadie and Missy, my muses, to behave again. They've been doing nothing but lounge around, spitting new story ideas at me, instead of expanding existing ones. ***glares at Sadie and Missy, who just flick their tails in a sarcastic "Love you, too" at Author***  
Anyway, the idea is this: I'm gonna start two sections, where I'll be accepting prompts from you. I decided to create two, because I have an overabundance of urge to write in two topics, which I think will help me return to my existing stories.  
I hope you'll like this idea and help me, and in return, I hope, I can give you a smaller story that you'll like.

This section is called **Hurt!Sam, Sick!Sam**. If you couldn't guess, I want to write Supernatural stories, so please give me prompts from that. No crossovers, please, because I don't watch enough TV to do them. In this section, I accept any ideas about hurt or sick Sammy Winchester :D whether he's a kid, a teen, or an adult. Preferably with Big Brother!Dean taking care of him, but you can also ask for John, Castiel, Bobby, Jody, or just an outsider. However, since I'm not a doctor, medical info might not be as accurate as it should be in real life, but Google is my friend (and don't worry - I always fact-check if I get info from wikipedia :D).

Obviously, I have to set some rules if I want to keep this under control. So here they are:

1\. And probably the most important: I've watched Supernatural up until season 12 episode 3! So NO SPOILERS FOR ME PLEASE! Once I'm more stable emotionally, I'll continue watching, because I'm too scared for myself and the boys to do it as of yet. I care too much about our boys... So if you want to give a prompt, give it to me up until season 12. Or if you don't mind me deviating from the current circumstances (like Chuck fixed everything, end of the world evaded by some other means) tell me!

2\. This section WILL NOT involve slash unless it's canon (as in a character in the show is actually gay, like Charlie has a girlfriend or something)! I LOVE slash and I ship some characters, but if you want to prompt a slashy hurt/comfort fic, please prompt it in the other section, which will be titled Romance. Which will also have its own rules, so go and have a look. In this section the maximum relationship I will go to will be brotherly or familial. This way, people who don't like male/male shipping can also read these stories without being squicked out or something (because I know people like that exist even if I'm not one of them.)

3\. The stories born from these prompts will be ONE-SHOTS. This is a challenge posed for myself, because I'm like a broken water-tap when it comes to writing: you MIGHT be able to turn me off before the sink is overflowing. (No drabbles, please, because that will always be impossible for me.)

4\. I have been writing (read: starting up and not yet finishing) new stories and ideas, which I might post someday, so if by any chance you prompt me with something I already started, I'll let you know.

If you'd like to participate, you can PM me or leave a review and if all goes well, I'll post the first story on March 1st (hungarian/europian time). The stories will be posted after this announcement, and - if there is a slim chance of this being successful - it will be an ongoing thing.

And now I'll give you a summary of my preferances (which is NOT a restriction of ideas, just a general info about me - feel free to suggest something different):

I prefer to write:  
Hurt!Sam, Sick!Sam (mostly adult, but I don't mind teen or kid); AbsolutelyMotherly!Dean; Vulnerable!Sam, Bedridden!Sam (needing Dean's absolute tender care ^.^); happy endings; Awesome!Charlie, Awesome!John, Awesome!Castiel, Awesome!Jody, FreakinAwesome!Bobby :P; Forehead-kissing, hugs, hair-strokes; Crying!Sam.

Difficulties for me:  
Death!fic (although I did start on here with one); SnarkyOrUncaring!Dean when Sam needs him; Uncaring!John or DrillSergeant!John (I like to think of him as trying to be a father when needed).

One more thing, I'll only post stories which I think can be up on FFnet. If there's a story whose content is too much for this site, I'll post it on my AO3 account. I'll inform you in that case - although this might not happen in this section, but the Romance section.

We'll see how this goes and hopefully I'll return to my already existing stories sooner rather than later. Thanks for your help/suggestions/participation!

HP/SPNLuver92


	2. Chapter 2 For TotallyChic

**ULTIMATE DISCLAIMER: Every content, character, plot etc. that anyone is able to recognize as other's property is NOT mine. I have no intention to get into any trouble involving law and money.**

 **Hey, guys!**

 **Let's get this show on the road, then!**

 **Prompt: _"Sam goes on a solo hunt and gets hurt. The rest is up to you."_ by TotallyChic. This was a fun one to write, so thank you! I hope you'll like it.**

 **Set: In an alternative season 9. I had to get rid of Ezekiel to get Sammy hurt, and I like the concept of PostTrial!Sammy still recuperating, so... The changes are mentioned in the story.**

 **Warnings: Hurt!Sam, Mothering!Dean, brotherly moment. :D I hope I managed to write them in character...**

 **Enjoy the story, guys! :D**

* * *

 _ **Easy Hunt, Winchester Style**_

The rasp of the zipper echoed loudly in the empty map room. Sam took a deep breath as he glanced around the bunker. He felt slightly restless with Dean out on a job, leaving Sam to rest alone. It's been weeks since the aborted Trials and Sam slowly regained most of his strength and health. The sudden appearance of God – or Chuck, as He preferred – and His interruption of Metatron's plans lifted a huge burden off the Winchesters' shoulders. Chuck had healed Sam's battered body, but the younger hunter was suspicious that He hadn't fully finished the job. Sam had been shaky and weak, still suffering from some dizziness and bad coughing fits when Dean had got him in his mothering grip.

Although, seeing his big brother thrive proudly in his old, dusty role of caretaker… Sam couldn't complain about Chuck's sloppy work much.

Now, though, Dean was gone on a hunt with one of the few allies the Winchesters still had, departing only after ordering Sam to bedrest and relaxation. "Read a book or whatever…" Dean had hurriedly muttered as he had stepped out of the bunker. And to Sam's credit, he did as he was told. He finished some of the books Dean had gotten for him from the library – even the one romantic novel his brother loaned as a joke.

Until the ding of his laptop just this morning.

Sam had received Dean's usual phone call to check in and knew his brother will arrive no sooner than tomorrow morning. Just after that, he had received an e-mail about a house being disturbed by a spirit. It was just on the outskirts of Lebanon, their current home base. It had been nothing too violent – until the mother was pushed down the stairs.

Sam had felt the itch of hunting in the back of his brain, but he knew he had been out of the game for far too long. He had just been allowed to help on a hunt – by doing nothing but research. The memory of adrenaline coursing through him during action had plagued him since then, and even interviewing the residents of the house hadn't soothed it.

Sam sighed as he picked up the shovel, laying it on top of his duffel bag. He felt loads better than after the third, interrupted Trial. He had managed to lose the vertigo and coughing, and only got a fine rush of tremor all over his body every 4-5 hours – Dean kept track of it – and it's a simple salt and burn, he could take it easy during the shoveling, spirits usually don't attack until their coffins were ripped open and their remains were disturbed, and he's been doing salt and burns since he found out about the supernatural, and why is he justifying himself, he's a _freakin' adult-_

Sam quickly shook his head, dismissing his troubled paranoia. He grabbed the strap of the duffel bag, shouldered it, keeping the shovel on top of the bag, and made his way to the bunker's garage. He was glad Dean left one of the stolen cars in there from a previous hunt, repairing it to have a getaway car if the Impala isn't available. Sam put the bag into its trunk and swiftly slid behind the wheel. Before he could second-guess himself, he cranked the engine – maybe a bit harder than he should – and put the gear in drive.

How does that saying go?

 _"It's easier to ask forgiveness than it is to get permission."_

Sam could only hope that it applies to rabid, protective big brothers, as well.

* * *

The crickets chirping in the night lured a smile onto Sam's face as he got his jacket back on and opened a water bottle. He felt satisfaction fill him as he glanced down at the neatly dug hole, the coffin ready to be opened. Sam let a shiver wash over him, partly from the tiring work and partly from the cool breeze brushing past him. He still had some trouble with his inner temperature and was hoping he hadn't acquired a fever from the sudden exercise. However, as he took a big gulp of water, he couldn't be more content being out on the field again and not feel so sickly that he had trouble standing up straight, let alone dig a hole.

Putting the bottle into his bag, he lifted the salt can and the lighter fluid and jumped back into the hole. With a grunt, he managed to lift the lid of the coffin, barely grimacing at the skeleton and rotten textile greeting him. Shoving the lid against the side of the pit, he quickly sprinkled the body with salt and lighter fluid. He suppressed the urge to whistle as if he was just cooking a meal at home.

As he finished up, he climbed out and fished the matchbox out of his pocket. He lit one and pressing it against the box, he let it catch fire. He held his hand out to drop the whole thing in, already impatient to boast about a successful hunt to his brother…

When Winchester luck struck him down.

The pressure of a supernatural force, accompanied by an enraged shriek, gripped his torso tight and yanked him backwards. His first hunter instinct was to let go of the burning matchbox, hoping it would land on the remains. Judging by the sudden disappearance of the supernatural pressure, and the agonized shriek of the spirit – a woman from the 19th century – the remains were burning.

But that wasn't the Winchester luck.

It was the sudden impact with something wooden.

And partially something stone.

His last memory was the deafening thud in his brain and the shock of impact on a hard, cold floor.

* * *

A loud groan broke the darkness of the mausoleum. Rubble of the wooden door scraped against the stone floor as the body shifted around sluggishly. Sam blinked his dazed eyes open, finding it hard to focus on anything, the darkness not helping at all. He knew he was lying on his back, his body trembling from its cold grip, and his head was pounding, mostly on the top of his skull on the right side. Sam turned his head trying to make out his surroundings as he blinked, then he lifted it up to check himself over.

Rippling pain erupted in his right shoulder, leaving him yelping and gasping for air.

Sam groaned as his left hand snapped up to his right arm and he hazarded a guess at what had happened. He pulled the throbbing limb onto his torso before pushing himself upright with a gasp of pain. Some light from the still burning remains showed him the way out of the small stone building.

And outlined a dent in the stone doorframe where Sam was now feeling the impact.

He's gonna have bruises on his back.

Not to mention the most likely dislocated shoulder.

…

 _'Dean's gonna kill me…'_

Sam staggered upright, but the sudden tilt of his vision sent him into the doorframe again, this time much gentler, and he had to close his eyes as his slowly adjusting vision began spinning.

 _'Damn'_ he thought sluggishly. _'Concussion…'_

He might as well fall into a grave right here, he was so dead.

After waiting a couple minutes, he opened his eyes and was glad that things righted themselves, so he pushed himself upright slowly. When the world stayed still around him, he began walking out of the mausoleum.

He quickly gulped down a cry of pain.

His right knee buckled shaking violently under his weight. Sam glanced down as he fell once again against the doorframe. His jeans were ripped on the side, stained with – but _**not**_ coated in – blood. He could only pray that his knee wasn't dislocated, as well.

He took several deep breaths then tried to put his weight again onto his injured knee. It still shook pretty badly, but the pain eased off a little. With a groan of absolute misery – because of the inevitable chewing out from Dean, not the injury – he carefully limped out onto the grass. He hugged his injured arm to his stomach, grimacing at the tight feeling of straining muscles and the throbs his shoulder sent into the lava pool in his head. Just as he reached the grave and his bag, the flames were dying out. Sam sent a mournful look towards the mound of dirt, but he knew he couldn't cover his tracks in the state he was in.

 _'Yep, Dean's gonna kill me…'_

He leaned down awkwardly, unable to keep a yelp in this time as gravity pulled at his hurt shoulder. He grabbed the strap of the duffel as fast as he could and picked it up, looping it around his forearm. He didn't dare lift it onto his back right now. Turning his back on the darkening hole, he limped his way out of the cemetery.

It took him three times as long to reach the car and even more to sit behind the wheel. It was taxing enough to leave him dizzy, shivering and breathless again. He could feel something trickling down the side of his head, indicating a possible cut buried under his hair. His shoulder was jackhammering at his nerves now, churning his stomach with the waves of agony flooding his senses.

But hey, at least his leg wasn't hurting that much.

An explosion of harsh trills made him groan miserably for two reasons: its volume sent a knife through his ears into his brain, and his reflex to lift a hand to the source of the pain jarred the dislocated joint, even though he barely nudged it. Shifting around awkwardly, he fished his phone out of his jeans' pocket – the right one, _of course_.

"Fuck…" he whispered as his eyes managed to make out the word on the too bright screen:

 _Dean_

Unable to avoid the impending Apocalypse – and this time, not really wanting to – Sam accepted the call.

"'Lo?' he grunted out, closing his eyes tiredly.

"Care to tell me where the fuck you disappeared to?"

Dean Winchester was pissed as Hell. Sam shivered at the calm, almost emotionless tone drifting into his ear. There's no way this was just because he wasn't in the bunker.

"Dean-"

"And you might as well explain what this e-mail is about" Dean didn't let him whine his way out of trouble. Again, for some strange reason, he didn't mind it. At least this explained Dean's furiouser fury… _'Wow, I definitely have a concussion…'_

"Jus' a salt-n-burn" he slurred out, blinking hard against the exhaustion creeping up on him. "'M fine."

"Sure." Sam could almost feel the sarcasm dripping out of the speaker and down his neck. Wait, he actually felt that… _Oh…_

"Sorry, reflex…" Sam snorted at himself before shaking his head with a groan. He has to rouse himself because there was a short drive back to the bunker waiting for him – not to mention a pissed momma bear of a brother.

Speaking of, Dean seemed to pause on the other end.

"You okay?" the man's voice was more worried now and Sam sighed in relief.

"I'll be home in five minutes" Sam replied, trying to evade as long as possible. He was quite proud of himself for such a coherent sentence.

"I'll come get you" Dean instantly jumped in. That was a sign of Sam's poor condition.

"I'm fine" Sam protested quickly. He needed these few minutes alone to prepare for the mother-hen-attack. "I'll see you in the bunker."

Another pause.

"Fine" Dean grumbled in annoyance. "Drive safely – and slowly!"

The way his brother enunciated the last two words was enough of a warning. Sam muttered a "'Kay" before hanging up and starting the engine.

It turned out that the path to the bunker took about five minutes even in the speed of a 90-year-old, spectacled grandma.

* * *

Dean probably got some whiplash from the speed his head snapped to the screeching entrance door. Cautious steps banged on the iron walkway before the door slammed shut. Dean marched to the foot of the stairs, ready to kick his stubborn little brother's ass.

He swore he felt planet Earth turn on its axis violently under his feet as his eyes took in the younger man's condition.

Sam was white, probably whiter than right before Chuck got to him and saved him. He was hugging his torso and his eyes looked dazed, squinting against the lamplight. The young hunter took slow, careful steps forward then as he reached the first step down, his left hand gripped at the railing almost tight enough to break it. Dean flinched at every little whimper and groan as Sam began his obviously painful way down the pretty steep staircase. Dean could also see red on the kid's neck and right leg and he was pretty suspicious of the hunched posture.

"The hell, Sammy?" Dean blurted out in shock. He began climbing the stairs to meet his brother halfway. "This is what you call 'fine'?"

Sam startled at his voice and averted his attention from his unsteady feet. That seemed to be a mistake: the sole of his boot got caught on the edge of the step and tipped Sam out of balance.

Luckily, Dean was ready to catch him, when the kid collapsed into his chest with a pained groan.

"Whoawhoahwhoah, Sammy" Dean winced as Sam's weight practically crashed into him, but the kid was still too thin for his liking. "I gotcha, kiddo, I gotcha…"

They slowly clambered down the steps, Dean pulling Sam's arm around his shoulders – the left one, because the right seemed too sensitive – and made their unsteady way into the library.

"Didn't you say it was 'just a salt and burn'?" Dean grumbled – _**not**_ bitched – to his brother as he lowered his battered body onto a chair.

"When's it ever jus' a salt-n-burn?" the slur of Sam's words was worrying. Dean lowered Sam's arm gently, keeping his eyes peeled open and stuck on his brother. Sam instantly wrapped his left arm protectively around his right.

"Let's get this off of you" Dean grabbed the front of Sam's jacket and began gently peeling it off of the younger man's torso. Sam groaned in pain as the fabric was slipped down his right shoulder. Dean took extra care to not jar the hurting limb.

Once the jacket was out of the way and thrown onto the table, Dean stepped behind Sam and tenderly brushed at his shoulder. He already knew Sam dislocated it but touch and gentle probes confirmed it.

"So?" Dean prodded, feeling the separated joints. It was a complete dislocation. He just hoped nothing was torn to shreds under his brother's skin. "Black dog? Hellhound?"

Sam snorted a little. Dean frowned as he recognized Sam's loopy mirth. Now he was certain his brother had a concussion.

"Spirit" Sam finally replied. "Little late for the party… Threw me across the… the cemetery…"

"Then I'll take care of it after I patched you up" Dean added, nodding to himself. He couldn't feel anything other than the joints out of place.

"No!" Sam snapped out indignantly. Dean would swear on his life his brother was pouting. "I took care of it…" Dean waited for more, but Sam seemed to forget to continue.

"But?"

Sam huffed but yelped because of his shoulder.

"Couldn't clean up after…"

Dean sighed with the air of _'Why am I such a generous brother to such a gentle moron?'_

"Then I'll clean up later" he answered slowly. He moved one of his hands to the front while keeping the other flat on Sam's back. He took a small step to the side. Sam didn't seem to notice anything.

"It w's so simple…" Sam whined a little, lost in his sulk. "Then she had to-AAH!"

The low words were abruptly cut off as Dean reset Sam's shoulder. The older man sniggered as he felt around once again, checking his handiwork.

"There" he exclaimed triumphantly. "Good as new."

"I hate you…" Sam moaned out, groaning miserably.

"Yeah, yeah" Dean said dismissively as he grabbed his own duffel bag and got one of his shirts out. He wrapped it gently around Sam's arm then tied the sleeves around Sam's neck in a makeshift sling. "I'll get you the real one when I come back."

"Thanks" Sam mumbled, visibly unwinding as his muscles eased into the sling. Dean crouched down to check Sam's leg next.

"Then she did what?" he asked, getting ready in case he had to reset any other dislocated limbs as he rolled the leg of Sam's jeans up.

"She threw me into the mausoleum door."

"The hell? What was it made out of, titanium?"

Silence. Dean glanced up at his brother's face from the cut down Sam's knee. His brother had two faint flushed spots high on his cheeks. Was Sam… _blushing?_

Dean raised an eyebrow before fishing out his medical kit for disinfectant and gauze. Sam hissed as the wound was cleaned and wrapped up.

"No, wood" Sam reluctantly answered. "But the frame was stone." This time it was Dean's turn to hiss.

"No wonder…" he mumbled as he stood up. He cupped Sam's chin, tilting it towards the light without hurting Sam's head more. The hazel-green irises were much thinner than normal, the pupils dilated as a definite sign of concussion. He then remembered the red on his brother's neck. "Head first?" Sam hummed out a yes, eyes closing as Dean's fingers waded through his hair.

Dean's brow began aching from frowning so much as he looked for a wound. Closing in on the top of Sam's skull, he caught the tiny crease on his brother's forehead.

Then one fingertip pressed against a sticky bump under the mop of hair.

Sam immediately jumped, eyes opening wide, and panicked little moans emitted through his suddenly tightly shut lips.

"Crap" Dean exclaimed as he reached to the side, snatching the closest trashcan they had left near the table. He wedged it between Sam's thighs, holding it under his mouth. Sam began taking deep, trembling breaths through his nose and Dean knew he was afraid to open his mouth even to a slit. He could feel a pull on his own jacket and one glance revealed Sam's tight, shaky grip on the fabric. Dean carded his fingers gently through Sam's hair, helping to calm his brother down through the nausea.

Several minutes passed in silence, only Sam's heavy, deep breathing echoing around the room. Then a heavy sigh broke through trembling lips as Sam slumped with relief.

"Better?" Dean asked concerned. Sam just nodded a fraction. "Hold this." He waited for Sam's grip to let his jacket go and grasp the trashcan, and only then did he round his brother's shivering form to peek under the mop of hair. He grimaced at the congealing blood sticking the hairs together, but just brushed them aside. He could already see the source as a small cut on a big lump. Snatching the disinfectant back up, he doused a cotton ball with it and gently pressed it against the wound. Sam moaned and began gasping for air as the nausea reemerged.

"Deep breaths, kiddo" Dean ordered firmly, not letting up the light pressure. Sam just whimpered as his gasps grew more frantic. "Sam!" Dean snapped out, grasping his brother's good shoulder sternly. "Deep breaths, now!"

One whimper and a couple gasps later, Sam took in a deep, shaky breath through his nose and blew it out of his mouth in a long sigh. Dean pressed the cotton ball to the wound a little more then at Sam's moan tightened his grip on the kid's shoulder.

"Keep breathing, Sammy." Sam got a little whine in his exhales as he struggled to keep his wrecked body together. "That's it…" Dean turned his tight hold into soothing strokes down Sam's back as his brother's body relaxed. He lifted the cotton ball, which was now stained pink, and happily acknowledged no new blood seeping out of the wound. At least the cut wasn't as bad as it looked.

"Alright, I think you took the brunt of the hit to your shoulder, so you'll live" Dean stepped back, taking the trashcan and dropping the cotton ball into it. He placed it onto the ground and looked his brother over. Sam still looked like a mess, his face even whiter and his hair all disheveled, his frame slouched and shivery, the makeshift sling giving him the look of a homeless person. "Let's get you into bed for a little while, huh?"

Sam lifted dazed, slightly unfocused eyes onto his big brother, looking miserable and visibly hurting.

"Can I sleep?"

The mournful plea almost broke Dean's heart.

"Of course, kiddo" he couldn't stop the adoring smile spreading across his face at Sam's five-year-old behavior and the puppy eyes. He leaned down to help the younger man to his feet. Sam swayed a little but Dean kept him upright easily, pulling Sam's good arm around his shoulders. After a pause of breath, they slowly made their stumbling way towards Sam's bedroom.

It was a good thing Dean stripped Sam's bed, readying it for his little brother to rest and heal, because the younger man might as well have been unconscious by now. At least, now Dean just had to sit him down, get his boots off and stretch him out on his left side on the mattress. Sam sighed as Dean grabbed a towel from the wardrobe and placed it under his brother's head, saving the pillow from bloodstains.

"Now, just relax and I'll get you some ice for that baseball on your head" Dean said, snickering again at his little brother's sleepy hum. He still dashed to the kitchen, preparing an ice pack with haste, too worried to leave Sam alone as of yet. He knew he had to get to the cemetery to cover the tracks of the hunt, but once Sam falls asleep, he wouldn't feel as guilty.

When he entered the room again, he found Sam in the same position as he left him, but his eyes were half-open. Dean's insides warmed as he realized: the kid was waiting for him. He grabbed the trashcan next to Sam's desk and placed it beside the bed before sitting down on the edge of the mattress.

"Here" he pressed the ice pack gently next to the lump on Sam's head. The younger man flinched with a whimper. "Easy…"

"Hurts…"

Dean's frown eased up at the nostalgia of that one simple word. Sam always had to complain the obvious when he was injured. It usually meant he was feeling better – especially when the kid was pouting, like now.

"That's what happens when a ghost plays tag" he shrugged, smirking at his brother and celebrating inwardly when he received the obligatory glare.

"This sucks" Sam mumbled. Dean could've sworn he could see the younger man's bottom lip poking out. "Things were goin' so well…"

"Well, what can you do?" Dean sighed, that phrase all too familiar from countless simple hunts gone wrong. Sam grimaced before mumbling into his pillow:

"'N you w're gon' be proud o'me…"

Dean leaned closer, unsure if he heard the words correctly.

"What do you mean? … Sammy?"

Soft snores floated up from Sam's lips as a reply. Dean shook his head indulgently… and maybe with a little sadness. It's a testament of how awful things have gotten between them that Sam was still looking for his big brother's approval, even when it's right under his nose. The young Winchester, who wanted nothing to do with this life, left for college on his own with full-ride – to Stanford, no less – then returned to the family business with his unprecedented loyalty, still had trust issues with himself and self-confidence problems towards others… Namely Dean...

Of course, things hadn't been sunshine and rainbows – or lollipops and candy canes – but Dean was hoping that during these last few weeks of recuperation their relationship had improved. It was hard to face Sam's doubts now. Was it his fault? Maybe he hadn't shown enough care towards Sam… He tried but after everything he had his own struggles to fight, Purgatory being the latest one. No, the latest one was the Trials and those probably took an even bigger toll on Dean than Purgatory. He didn't even want to know how much worse Sam had had to endure…

Before he knew it, he had been sitting on Sam's bed, holding the ice pack to Sam's head, for over twenty minutes. He carefully lifted it off and caught a glimpse of pink on the towel covering the pillow. He leaned over Sam and checked the head wound but still there was no new blood oozing out of it. However, Sam's hair looked cleaner and damp, so the drying blood probably dripped onto the towel. Dean put the ice pack onto the nightstand and almost instinctively carded his fingers gently through Sam's tresses. Standing up, he tucked Sam in and once he made sure the younger man was sleeping soundly, he left the room.

He had to hurry if he wanted to get back from the cemetery.

* * *

"Sammy…"

Sam groaned as a soft voice forced its way through the pleasant darkness.

"Come on, kiddo" the voice insisted, bringing nice warmth onto his aching head. "You'll feel much better after a shower."

Sam turned towards the voice painstakingly slowly then forced one of his eyes open.

He met with his brother's hazy outline, dim and wavy, while the room behind him swayed ever so slightly.

"D'?" he rasped out, his tongue disobeying his muddled brain's commands.

"Welcome back, Sammy" Dean whispered and warmth covered Sam's forehead then cheek. Sam blinked slowly a couple times, trying to wake up, knowing his brother would be worried if he can't get himself together. "So, how about that shower?"

Sam frowned at Dean, but as he thought about it – _warm water and soft sheets_ – he forced his head up and down in a sloppy nod.

"Okay" Dean muttered then something hard and long wormed its way under Sam's neck. As the room began tilting, he whimpered. He was scared the floor would be pulled out from underneath him. "Keep holding onto me, kiddo." That order made him realize his grip on Dean's shirt. He felt his body shift forward then his legs slid forward and off the bed. "You with me?"

Sam gazed at Dean's dancing outline then rolled his eyes around the room, blinking hard against the swaying room. Was that a… shirt on the lamp? His door was wide open, but he likes it ajar, it helps to determine if there's an intruder in his room… His bag was thrown in the corner on the floor, the shovel above it, he needed to pack it away-

A warm, calloused palm cupped his cheek and his attention snapped back to his brother. Dean had a frown again, as his green eyes trailed over Sam's features. Sam swallowed guiltily, he had to stay strong.

"'M fine…"

"I know, Sammy, just makin' sure" Dean replied, his voice a little louder, but the frown never disappeared. Before Sam could muster up a reassuring sentence, Dean stood up from his crouch and wrapped Sam's arm around his shoulders. Sam got a weird déjà vu from that gesture.

"Head hur's…" Sam slurred with a wince. The change of elevation sent his right side pounding.

"I bet" Dean answered soothingly. "After a nice shower and a pain pill you can sleep all you want, alright?"

"M-hm…"

They made their way to the bathroom, Sam trying to keep his weight off of his right side. With every step and every other blink he became more and more awake. Memories of the night slowly clicked back into place in his brain. By the time Dean stopped him in front of the shower, he managed to stay upright of his own accord. A little shakily but upright.

Dean was, as always, efficient in undressing an injured little brother. One moment Sam was worrying about his throbbing shoulder and head, the next he was shivering against the cold of the bunker. Dean also unwrapped the gauze on his leg then started the shower, its hum soft and low. Sam was led under the flow, not too hard but still massaging his aching muscles. Dean stepped back but Sam just stayed still, suddenly unsure what to do.

Dean huffed with a smirk then grabbed the soap and lathered it up. Sam just watched tiredly as his brother began gently scrubbing him down. How much practice did Dean have in this? Sam wasn't sure if he would be as capable in taking care of his big brother, not that he didn't want to when necessary.

An involuntary hum escaped him as he let himself enjoy the professional care he was receiving. His face warmed up a little in embarrassment, but Dean seemed too focused to notice. Without a word, Dean guided his head under the showerhead and washed his hair. Sam hissed as the shampoo stung the wound on the top of his skull, but it was a relieving feeling.

Soon – maybe, too soon – the shower was turned off and instantly Sam began shivering, his wet skin filling up with goosebumps.

"You cold?" Dean asked as he began drying him with a fluffy, warm towel.

"A l-l-little" Sam inwardly cursed his traitorous teeth as they chattered, making him stutter. Dean just nodded, not even stopping his ministrations.

Sam sighed in relief when Dean picked a well-worn shirt up and not a T-shirt. As soon as he slid into it with the grace of a sloth on a treadmill, Dean got an actual sling onto his right arm. The way its straps hugged Sam's torso kept his arm steady and shoulder relaxed. With a plastic snap, the buckle was fastened and Dean adjusted the length of the straps to fit perfectly. Sam was so glad to ease the tension in his throbbing shoulder that he completely missed Dean pulling a pair of boxers onto him. Thankfully, his instincts still remembered the motions from childhood, so at least he didn't face plant the cold tiles, adding a nice black-eye or broken nose to the list of his injuries.

"There we go" Dean exclaimed, smiling as he straightened up. "Almost done, kiddo." Once again, Sam's arm wrapped around Dean and the brothers stumbled their way back to Sam's room. There Sam was sat down onto the bed then Dean knelt down in front of him, getting the fresh gauze from the nightstand to wrap his leg up.

"And here's your trip to Heaven" Dean spoke as he popped the bottle of Tylenol open and shook one out onto his palm. Sam took it, hating how his fingers were shaking and as he swallowed it down, Dean handed him a glass of water. Sam let a big gulp slosh around in his mouth, chasing the draught away. Without waiting for Dean's help, he scooted to the nightstand and put the glass onto it before lying down onto the bed. He thought he saw Dean roll his eyes and shake his head, but the man didn't move to help, only leaning down to tuck him in once Sam settled.

"Sammy?"

Dean's timid voice immediately sprang Sam's eyes back open. He didn't even notice them close. His brother looked troubled, watching him half-warily, half-concerned. Sam shifted a little more before relaxing back against the mattress and pillow.

"Wha'?" it was getting harder to talk by the minute. Dean seemed hesitant then just settled onto the edge of the bed with a sigh.

"You did great tonight" the older man spoke softly, giving a genuine smile. "Cleanest work I've ever seen so far."

Sam watched his brother, looking for a sign of teasing or lie, but Dean's features showed nothing but honesty.

"R-Really?" he couldn't help but ask, hope blooming in his heart, a feeling he never fully knew how much he missed.

"Yeah" Dean replied as if it was the most obvious thing ever. "You wrapped it up in one day, dug out an entire grave, burned the remains – and only got a dislocated shoulder and a concussion…" Dean shook his head disbelievingly. Was he just realizing Sam's idiocy with his words? "That's like a nice night out compared to the crap we've been through lately. You even managed to drive back home without endangering yourself and others." Sam smiled at his brother, taking the praise, even if he still had some disbelief that he got one, but when Dean carded his fingers through his little brother's hair affectionately, Sam had to hold back the sudden surge of emotions.

"I'm proud of you, Sammy."

Sam was startled by that admission and his mouth might have hung open a bit. Was Dean saying-?

"And I'm pretty sure Dad would be, too" Dean continued, eyes holding Sam's gaze tightly. Sam gulped against the tight knot in his throat.

"Thanks" he breathed, happiness like no other filling his aching, exhausted body. Dean nodded then snickered.

"Now I know you have a concussion."

Sam shoved his brother weakly.

"Shuddup, jerk" he mumbled out. Dean pulled a chair closer and settled into it, propping his feet up on the mattress by Sam's side.

"Go to sleep, bitch" he grunted as he reclined, crossing his arms on his chest. He didn't plan on leaving Sam's side anytime soon. He ignored the arm sliding over his ankles, Sam keeping him in place like this.

And as they fell into a deep sleep and a nap, respectively, everything seemed to turn back to normal between them… finally.

 _The End_

* * *

 **So, how was it?  
**

 **Thank you, TotallyChic, for the prompt. :)**

 **If I don't post the next story tomorrow, I'll make sure to do it the next day. I'm still working on it... *lowers eyes guiltily* It's giving me a little tough time, but hey! That's what challenges are for. :D**

 **See you soon!**


	3. Chapter 3 For Hobbit-fan 01

**ULTIMATE DISCLAIMER: Every content, character, plot etc. that anyone is able to recognize as other's property is NOT mine. I have no intention to get into any trouble involving law and money.**

 **Hey, guys!**

 **Next one:  
**

 **Prompt: _"I would love a De-aged Sam set when the boys first meet cas a hurt young hurt sam helps Car to understand him more and brings our a very over protective Dean."_ by Hobbit-fan 01. I was writing this after two pretty angsty prompts, so it's more cute than hurt. I hope you'll still like it. :)  
**

 **Set: Season 4. I don't have many memories from then (I was mostly pissed off at Sam, so... But hey, that shows how talented the Js are :D), so it's set after the boys begin referring to Castiel as Cas, but before they pull too far apart.  
**

 **Warnings: Hurt!De-aged!Sam, Mothering!Overprotective!Dean, much Bewildered!Castiel and just to be safe: OOC (Out Of Character). I tried but... I don't know. Maybe you can chalk it up to all the Sammy-cuteness ^.^  
**

 **Without further ado, enjoy the story, guys! :D**

* * *

 _ **Through The Eyes of Innocence**_

It started with a high-pitched scream.

* * *

Plates clanked together on the counter, thrown away hastily in response. Heavy-soled boots thudded at the floor towards the source of the sound.

"SAMMY!"

Dean Winchester, hunter extraordinaire, survivor of Hell, practically slid to a halt next to the bed. His wide green eyes roamed over frightened features, looking for injuries. The baby-soft skin was unmarred except for the bandage covering the smooth forehead, and terror-filled hazel-green stared ahead unblinkingly. Dean gently cupped the chubby cheeks of the five-year-old, who was holding onto an old, thin blanket as if it was the last tether holding him over a pit.

"What is it? Did you hurt your head? Or was it a bad dream? Tell me, kiddo, let me help you."

The little boy didn't move for a second then with a whimper he stabbed a stubby finger behind Dean before hiding into his chest. Dean gathered the small body into his arms, wrapping him up in the blanket as he held him tightly. Only then did he glance to where he was directed.

And froze in surprise.

Bright blue, unblinking eyes drilled into him, a frown appearing on the angel Castiel's usually emotionless face. Dean took a small step back and the boy in his arms whimpered, sensing his tension.

"Why did you come here?" Dean asked warily, gulping anxiously at the sight of the angel. Castiel looked like he always did: trenchcoat, suit, windswept hair, piercing blue eyes - which just shifted to the child in his arms. Dean wanted to flee the motel room as the angel narrowed his gaze, obviously examining the two thoroughly.

Then - to Dean's amazement - Castiel's eyes widened in shock.

"That is Sam Winchester" the angel spoke in its deep, gruff monotone. Dean rubbed at the little boy's back when another whimper snuck into his ear.

"Yes, he is" he replied defensively. Castiel tilted his head in confusion. "So whatever you're sellin', I ain't buyin'."

The angel just stared at him for a minute then took a step forward. The little boy, a five-year-old Sam Winchester, whined in terror when he heard the footstep, clinging onto his big brother like a little koala.

"He doesn't like you" Dean barked out, a fire deep in his stomach flaring up. "So piss off!"

Castiel actually seemed taken aback by the sudden hostility.

"If you wish" he spoke cautiously, "I will swear on my grace not to harm him in this state."

Dean glared at Castiel, betrayed too many times to just trust anybody, but the offer sounded huge for an angel, so he nodded.

"May I examine him?" Castiel inquired hesitantly. That made Dean relax a little more. Maybe this one won't be such an ass...

Sam, though, cried out in fear and practically melted into his big brother. Dean felt his throat tighten as the small heart thudded away rapidly against his chest.

"Shshshh, Sammy" he whispered, rubbing his cheek into the soft, curly tresses as he stroked Sam's back soothingly. "He wouldn't dare hurt you as long as I've got you."

Castiel nodded in understanding at Dean's threatening glare. He would never harm a child, and Sam Winchester was no exception at this moment. He stepped closer, keeping his hands in sight to show he meant no danger.

"I apologize for startling you, little one" he offered, forcing his voice to emerge a bit softer, not wishing to terrify the little boy - and anger an already very infuriated Winchester. Dean huffed and shook his head. _'"Startling", right...'_ "Will you forgive me?"

For a long moment, the trio stayed still, unsure of how to act and react to one another, then Sam shifted in Dean's arms and peeked out from his hiding place. Castiel took in the chubby cheeks protecting high cheekbones to protrude in the future, the tiny button nose that was flushed right now, the trembling lips partially hidden by a small, trembling fist. The angel, at a second glance, realized that the little boy was now sucking his thumb. He had seen such comfort-seeking behaviour in other children, but, knowing who this child will grow up to be, it was a strange and - he had to admit - saddening sight.

What actually caused his vessel's insides to tighten, was the rounded, big pair of tear-filled hazel-green eyes. The angel was used to it being darkened by rage and broken by shame, but the terror glistening in them was one he never thought he would see - and it kind of made him wish he didn't.

"Hello" the angel tried to approach the frightened boy differently. Dean smothered a smile at the awkwardness radiating from such a powerful being. The hunter glanced down at his little brother and his features fell at the sorry sight. He leaned in and pressed a soothing kiss onto the boy's cheek, wiping the tear-tracks away with the back of his finger.

"See, he's nice" he muttered, keeping his tone happy to sooth the terrified boy, bouncing him lightly. It had always made Sam giggle with delight, and it didn't fail this time: Sam let out a hiccup-like chuckle before leaning back against Dean, but this time he didn't try to hide from the stranger. Slowly, his thumb slipped out of his mouth and he waved that hand shyly towards the angel.

"Hiya" he whispered and Castiel caught a flush spreading over the chubby cheeks. The angel swallowed as he watched the... how do the humans put it?... Adorable. Yes, adorable sight.

"He wants to take a look at you" Dean continued and his shoulders visibly relaxed as Sam gradually calmed down. "Can he?"

Sam glanced up at his big brother then turned to Castiel. The angel gazed in wonder at the intelligence in those innocent eyes and for the first time in his existence he felt like he was being sized up.

Then he was shocked when Sam reached his arms out towards him.

Two sets of wide eyes glanced at each other at the same time, revealing Dean's equal amount of, if not larger shock. Castiel waited for the hunter to say something, because he couldn't fathom what was being expected of him.

"He..." Dean rasped out, dazed from the unexpected turn of events. "He wants you to hold him."

"Oh" Castiel replied. He stepped closer once more and slid his hands under the little boy's arms. Keeping his movements gentle, he lifted Sam out of his brother's protective hold. He paused as it hit him: he was holding Sam Winchester, who is one of the most famous hunters of his generation - and one of the most important humans of his kind. He couldn't pinpoint the feeling spreading all over his mind, but the closest he could guess was absurdity.

"He won't bite, you know."

Dean's words had that darker undertone and when the angel glanced at him, green eyes watched him warily. That's when Castiel realized he was just standing still like a statue, keeping the little boy at arm's length. He blinked and pulled the child close, mimicking the hunter's position to create a comfortable resting place.

Sam immediately grabbed the lapel of his trenchcoat, but his other hand lifted up, a finger poking Castiel's nose almost experimentally. The angel stayed still, frowning once again, and endured the following prods and pokes.

"Who's you?"

Castiel tilted his head once again in confusion. The little voice was somewhat familiar, but leagues different from the deep baritone of the future hunter he was used to by now. It held such innocence yet hinted at the maturity from his adult counterpart.

It took him a second and a blink of disbelief to react to the question.

"I am Castiel. An angel of the Lord."

The child gasped aloud, freezing in his arms. Castiel instantly halted, afraid of having upset the tiny Winchester - and his big brother. However, Sam just whipped his head around to Dean with such a joyous smile that the two felt slightly overwhelmed.

"He's angel!" the little boy cried out excitedly, pointing at Castiel as if Dean had missed this information.

"Yeah, he is" the hunter still looked distrustful, but the smile on his face was genuine. The angel realized then that Dean would let simple animosity slide for his brother's happiness.

"You's watch over Deanie?" Sam's hair sent a soft breeze towards Castiel's face as the little boy snapped his head back to him.

"And you, kiddo" Dean added, stepping closer and rubbing Sam's back with a chuckle.

"Of course" Castiel nodded, and he felt a surge of warmth inside him when the little boy smiled at him happily. "We watch over both of you."

Apparently, that had been the right answer, because instantly a pair of stubby arms wrapped tightly around the angel's neck. Castiel could feel the little boy's giddy joy resonating with his grace, which hadn't occurred in a long time. He almost forgot how strong a child's emotions can be...

Obeying an instinct from long ago, Castiel raised his hand and stroked the brown curls gently. He forced himself to return to the task at hand: examine Sam Winchester's condition. The boy began giggling and wriggling around as his grace enveloped the small form. Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see the older Winchester's smile widening, watching his little brother adoringly.

"Tickles" Sam whined out loud before falling victim to another fit of laughter. Castiel couldn't stop the smile gracing his vessel's features, but it wasn't the human's reaction this time but his own.

He only managed to gather a flash of bright light and pain from Sam's current memories, so he pulled back.

"Would you like me to heal him?" he asked Dean, hoping to ease this innocent soul's pains - and perhaps even placate the hunter and disprove his doubts.

"No, it's okay" Dean refused, shaking his head a little faster than necessary. "We're alright."

"Can I call you Cas?" Sam straightened up so fast, Castiel unconsciously tensed up, afraid that the child would fall backwards and hurt himself. Only after making sure Sam's balance was stable did he realize what was asked of him.

"Well" he contemplated his reply. He had heard the Winchesters referring to him in this manner a couple times and at first he was unsure about it. But as those big hazel-green eyes bore into him, filled to the brim with hope and excitement, a sight never before witnessed by the angel from the adult, he knew what his only answer could be. "If you prefer it, yes."

"And Deanie, too?"

The innocent question came instantaneously, making Castiel frown. These two brothers seemed to have each other's well-being in their minds, first and foremost. It was... uncanny how in sync they were with each other on this front. They even dismissed their own safety for the other...

"Sammy-" Dean began, his tone cautious. The angel had a feeling the human wanted to grab his little brother and flee with him to safety. He didn't understand why. The green eyes flashed with the slightest of fear. Why was Dean scared of him?

"Dean already calls me that" the angel clarified to the young boy with a smile. "We have agreed to it weeks ago."

Dean's words halted and he just kept staring at the angel in disbelief. Castiel frowned at the reaction. Did he say something wrong?

"You don't mind?" For the first time, Dean sounded humbled and almost chastened.

"Of course not" the angel shrugged. "It still refers to me. Although why humans shorten names is beyond me as of yet."

"Usually it's a sign of affection" Dean explained, shrugging himself. "That's why I call Sam 'Sammy'."

"And Deanie is Deanie" Sam interjected, his big green eyes jumping between the two adults. Dean's face immediately lit up with a bright smile and the angel watched him lean in and press a loud kiss onto the child's cheek, making the boy giggle again.

"But only you can call me that" the hunter replied, sending a mock-glare to his little brother as he pointed at him. Sam nodded enthusiastically.

"No one else is Deanie" the child spoke with such conviction that Castiel could only stare in surprise. "My Deanie is the only Deanie."

Dean let out a rare laugh, filled with love and joy.

"Come here, you" he pulled Sam out of Castiel's arms and hugged him tightly to his chest, peppering the chubby cheeks with kisses. Sam once more began giggling and laughing, just holding onto Dean's shirt as he squirmed around. The angel felt that same warmth slowly growing to life inside him as he watched the tender moment, rarest of all in the Winchesters' life, especially nowadays.

It was cut short by a small yelp of pain from Sam.

The other two instantly froze then Dean snapped into action.

"What is it? Did I hurt you? I'm sorry, sweetheart."

Castiel tilted his head again. He never heard the hunter utter that word out before, except in a flirtatious manner towards the opposite sex.

"Hu'ts..." Sam whimpered, his eyes filling once more with tears, and put a hand onto the bandage on his forehead. Dean's face fell into sadness before he pressed a barely-there kiss next to the white gauze.

"I'm sorry, Sammy" he apologized again, looking straight into his little brother's eyes. Without hesitation, Sam wrapped his arms around the hunter and pressed his kiss of forgiveness onto the man's cheek. Castiel was still floored by such a huge amount of affection between the brothers. He had only met the stoic, emotionless, or just hostile Dean Winchester. Not even while fighting side by side did the angel manage to fully take a peek into the hunter's thoughts and soul.

Yet a tiny little boy, who grew up to be the vengeful, stubborn Sam Winchester he knew, managed to tear all those walls down.

"So" Dean smiled down at his brother, trying to veer the mood back to cheerful, "how about that ice cream?" Sam nodded enthusiastically and licked at his lips with a longing "Mmm...". Dean chuckled and began walking out to the kitchen. Castiel, uncertain about what to do and not really wishing to miss more affectionate interactions of the brothers, followed them.

Dean sat Sam down at the table, a pillow elevating the tiny body.

"Wait here, okay?" he ordered gently, stroking the little boy's head. When he received a nod, he stepped to the fridge and pulled out a tub of ice cream. Castiel watched him scoop out a big portion of white then brown substance into a ceramic bowl. Dean stuck a small spoon into it and handed it to his brother. "Here you go, kiddo" he grinned as the child bounced in his seat, grabbing the bowl as if it wanted to run off.

"Yum" Sam said right before getting his first bite. Castiel, thinking the child was sufficiently distracted, stepped up to the hunter's side.

"What happened?"

Dean turned to him surprised, which bewildered Castiel even more. Then the hunter glanced at his little brother before turning away from the table, placing the tub onto the counter. The angel knew the man wanted even more distance from the boy. He could only guess that it was to preserve his innocence.

"We were on a hunt" Dean explained, keeping his voice soft. Castiel leaned closer slightly to aid the man's efforts. "A witch. Believe it or not, we just wanted to talk to her. But things got out of hand..."

 _Dean felt his back hit something hard and an edge stabbed into his lower back. He thought his spine would snap in half and the pain left him breathless after his cry exploded out of his lungs. He fell on the floor, unable to move for a few seconds, waiting for at least the stars to vanish in front of his eyes._

 _As soon as they did, his eyes locked with Sam's, who was staring at him in terror. He wanted to reassure him that he was fine, but the younger man's face darkened with rage and he jumped to his feet. Dean could only watch in horror as Sam yanked a knife out of his belt and rushed towards the girl, his face contorted by a snarl. Dean wanted to call out to stop, worried about what will happen._

 _But it was too late._

 _The slip of the girl let out a frightened gasp then thrust her hand forward - right at Sam's heart. A bright blue light erupted from her fingers and hit the younger man in the chest, sending him flying backwards down the upstairs hallway. Sam's body hit the railing, breaking it, and he disappeared, his landing only indicated by the loud crash downstairs._

 _Dean froze in his spot on the floor, just staring at the gap in the railing. Panic began building in his guts, which made him forget about his own aches. He jumped to his feet and dashed to the railing, but the dim light of the house kept the form lying down there obscured. Dean turned to the girl, who gazed at him in utter shock before fleeing down the hall and into a room, slamming the door shut. Dean wanted to run after her, but was interrupted._

 _It started with a high-pitched scream._

"He was screaming in pain" Dean whispered, his voice choked. Castiel glanced over at the little boy, so much different from the picture the hunter was describing. "He was crying, lying on the ground helpless, calling for me. I would recognize his voice anywhere and he never had to let those sounds out in his childhood..."

"So, he turned five years old then" the angel said as Dean paused.

"Yeah" Dean sniffed, rubbing at his eyes, miming exhaustion, as if Castiel hadn't noticed the tears gathering in them. "He had a concussion and a sprained ankle and a couple bruises when he hit the little stand by the stairs. It was a miracle he didn't..."

"Children are more resilient than you think" Castiel stated. "But I think I understand what you mean."

"Anyway" Dean shook his head to get himself back to the present, "that was two days ago. I haven't managed to find her yet, or the spell, but I'm working on it."

"If you wish" Castiel began, "I can offer my assistance-"

"No, it's fine" Dean sent him a wary smile. "You have more important things to do than baby-sitting us."

"I can look after Sam while you are out searching."

Dean once again stared at him in shock, but Castiel thought he himself was experiencing that emotion right now. He had offered his aid before he could think about it.

Dean seemed to recover first - right into a glare.

"You would look after the _'boy with the demon blood'_?"

Castiel's own eyes widened at that. The fury in the man's voice halted him, poisoning the words he had once uttered to Sam Winchester. He had not fully understood why the younger hunter... he couldn't find any analogy but that he wilted like a flower losing the sun.

"I don't..."

"Don't understand, huh?" Dean growled out. "Of course not. That's usually a good excuse for angels. Why don't you just try?"

Castiel held his gaze in Dean's flaming one, but a sudden urge overwhelmed him and he averted it, his vessel's insides tightening. What was he feeling? It was similar when one of his brothers reprimanded him rightfully for his misdeeds as a cherub. Was it guilt, as the humans say? If it was, he had felt it quite a few times now.

"I apologize" he spoke, but received a snort for it. When he glanced up, the hunter was still glaring at him, the flames in his eyes burning brighter than the ones in Hell.

"Wrong person" the man hissed through gritting teeth.

"Deanie?"

The little voice piped up right next to them. Dean's face immediately relaxed into an adoring smile as he glanced down at his brother.

"What's wrong, Sammy?" Dean frowned as he knelt down, taking the ceramic bowl the little boy was holding out. It still had a lot of ice cream in it. "You don't like it?"

Sam shook his head in disagreement, then without a word he wrapped his stubby arms around Dean's neck. The hunter returned the gesture instinctively, he was so taken aback.

"I love you, Deanie" Sam exclaimed loud and clear, keeping his hold tight. Dean's face remained slack at the words.

Then Castiel watched him crumble.

It amazed the angel how such an innocent creature can move such a hardened soldier. It was a truly beautiful sight he had witnessed many times over his existence, but this one seemed even more special. Maybe because of its rarity...

"I love you, too, Sammy" Dean choked out, closing his eyes as a teardrop rolled down his cheek. The brothers stayed in the embrace for a whole minute, just basking in the sense of family surrounding them. Castiel found only one flaw in the picture, but he quickly took care of it: he grabbed the bowl in Dean's hand and slowly pulled it out of his grip, placing it on the counter. Now the older Winchester could rest his freed-up hand on the little boy's head, stroking the brown curls tenderly.

The sniff interrupting the silence was like cannon fire. Dean quickly swiped at his face over Sam's shoulder then pulled back, forcing a smile out. It became instantly genuine the moment his eyes landed on the big hazel-green eyes. Even Castiel could recognize the love filling them to the brim as the child stared at his big brother.

"You want your ice cream back?" Dean asked, already reaching up and plucking down the bowl. Sam, however, shook his head.

"Yours" he said, surprising the angel but not the human. Then:

"Can I have ice cream?"

Dean laughed at that then leaned in and pressed a kiss onto the little boy's cheek, making him giggle again.

"You sneaky devil, you..." the man teased as he straightened up. Once more, he scooped the same coloured ice cream into another bowl and handed it to the boy, but instead of rushing to the table to ravish it, Sam held it out to Castiel. The angel, at first didn't know what to do.

"I..." Castiel glanced at the brothers, who were looking at him expectantly. Sam's look was sprinkled with hope, while Dean's with fear. "I don't..." Castiel stopped as Dean's eyes narrowed. He could see the threat in them, practically hear it in his mind.

 _'Don't you dare hurt him!'_

 _"_ I don't... usually eat" he finished awkwardly, but at the same time he accepted the bowl.

"No ice cream?" Sam stared at the angel with wide eyes. Castiel realized it was incredulity in them and his voice.

"He's an angel, kiddo" Dean explained, coming to Castiel's aid. The angel couldn't decide if it was knowingly or unknowingly. "They apparently don't need food."

"But..." Sam glanced at his brother before turning back to the angel. Castiel felt that warmth once again as the little boy's bottom lip poked out and eyebrows drew to each other in a saddened frown. "It's not food, it's ice cream." The angel tilted his head in confusion.

"I thought ice cream is food." His words just made the little boy's bottom lip poke out a little more and his big rounded eyes grow even sadder. It reminded the angel of a tiny puppy begging for love.

"We don't eat ice cream for sustenance" Dean said, his smile turned into a smirk. "We eat it to enjoy it after a nice fulfilling meal."

"Oh" the angel didn't know what to say to that, but now his mind could name the expression on Sam's face: a pout. "I..." he glanced at the bowl and its contents in his hand, but couldn't find any appeal in it. "I guess I could try it."

"Yay!" Sam cried out happily, bouncing on his toes, then rushed to Castiel and hugged his legs tightly. The angel didn't know how many more surprises he can take today.

"Here you go, Sammy" Dean spoke, already conjuring up another bowl of ice cream for the little boy. "Now let's eat it before it melts."

The three of them sat down around the table and the two Winchesters immediately dug in. However, Castiel just stared at his ice cream, unsure of the outcome of this decision.

"You alright, Cas?" Dean's voice startled him and when he glanced up he caught the teasing glint in his eyes. It meant that what he will say next isn't meant to be taken seriously. "You don't know how to use a spoon?"

Instead of answering, Castiel grabbed the spoon and carved a small bite out of the white ice cream. He frowned as he got it into his mouth, letting its cool texture spread across his vessel's tongue. He sat in contemplation for a while, trying to decide his opinion on it. He didn't notice two sets of wide eyes watching him intently, ice cream forgotten.

Finally, the angel turned to the little boy and pointed at the white ice cream in his bowl with his spoon.

"What is that?"

"It's v-vanilla" Sam answered with a bright smile, looking at his brother for confirmation. Dean nodded with a proud smile and took another bite of his ice cream. Castiel hummed in acknowledgement then got some of the brown ice cream, repeating his actions with it.

"And this one?" again he asked the little boy.

"Chocolate!" Sam cried out, taking a big spoonful of his own chocolate ice cream and sinking it into his mouth.

"Careful, Sammy" Dean warned the boy worriedly. "Don't get brain freeze."

As Sam nodded, Castiel hummed once more.

"I think I prefer vanilla more" the angel finally declared. As he got another bite, he caught the deflating shoulders of the tiny Winchester.

"You don't like chocolate?" he asked sadly. Castiel felt a flash of fear pass through him and he quickly glanced at Dean. However, the hunter was just shaking his head with an amused smile, watching his little brother interact with a celestial being.

"I do, but..." Castiel tried to think of a reason for his decision, but could only shrug. "Vanilla appeals to me more."

Sam's face remorphed into a pout and the little boy turned to his big brother.

"He don't like chocolate" Sam pointed at the angel almost accusingly.

"Sammy, he likes it" Dean stroked his brother's hair soothingly. "He just likes vanilla more."

"But..." Sam still didn't seem satisfied. "But chocolate..."

"Hey, it's okay" Dean rubbed Sam's back gently. "You like grape juice, right?" Sam frowned at the change of subject but nodded. "And you like orange juice, too." Another nod. "If you had to choose between them, which one would you want to drink?"

Sam turned his gaze onto the tabletop as he thought about such a dilemma then replied with a bright smile:

"Orange!"

"But you still like grape juice, right?" Dean continued, his voice sounding serious. Castiel could only watch the conversation about something so trivial bewildered.

"Yeah" Sam answered but seemed to get the idea his brother was trying to explain.

"That's how Cas is with ice cream" Dean finished. "He likes both vanilla and chocolate, but if he had to choose, he would choose vanilla. But he still likes chocolate, see?"

Sam nodded finally at ease and satisfied.

"Which one do you prefer, Dean?" Castiel asked, genuinely curious, as he took another bite.

"All of them" Dean shrugged. Castiel yielded to the urge to smile and felt like he should have expected that reply from the older Winchester. The three finished up their ice cream in pleasant silence.

* * *

The tinny rock tune interrupted the peace of the afternoon, coming muffled from Dean's pocket. Castiel reflexively tore his gaze away from Sam next to him, who looked up from the paper he had been scribbling on for a while now with crayons. Dean straightened up from reading the screen of the laptop and fished his phone out, picking it up immediately.

"Yes?"

The moment Dean's face froze stiff, Castiel knew it wasn't a welcomed call. The angel quickly turned to Sam, whose face contorted with a fear he never wanted to witness again.

"Sam" he called softly, capturing the little boy's attention. "Do you want to show me your drawing? I would like to see it."

As Sam smiled at him a little uncertainly, Dean got to his feet and hurried into the next room. Castiel scooted closer to Sam with his chair and leaned in, only sparing one more glance to the tense back of the hunter. He listened to the child describing what Castiel could clearly see on the paper. For a small child, Sam was remarkably intelligent, and his drawing wasn't just the usual scribbling, but it had so many small details that managed to separate the ungainly shapes on the papers from each other and make them recognizable. For example, Castiel instantly made out the Impala from the fairly recognizable outline of a car hastily scribbled in with black, but it had grey streaks on its front and back with red spots on them, showing the fender and the lights.

Next, he was pointed to a stick figure, which he quickly recognized as Dean. It was tall and had yellow hair, but it was wearing a brown coat and had a yellow glint on its chest.

The other stick figure was much smaller, but had shaggy brown hair and a big smile. He knew it was Sam, holding onto his big brother's hand. Although, Sam had actually written unsteadily above them a D and an S.

When he heard the little boy grow silent, but Dean's angry whispers continued, Castiel pointed to the sun, which was smiling widely above its cloud.

"I did not know the sun has features" he told the little boy with a frown. Sam giggled but Castiel still heard the uncertainty in his voice.

"He's happy" the little boy explained. "If you're happy, you smile, see?" And gave the angel a wide, bright grin, which in turn made Castiel smile. "You happy, too?" Sam asked hopefully. Castiel frowned in thought.

"It is hard for me to recognize emotions" he spoke truthfully. "But I would say what I am feeling right now is positive."

Sam stared at him confused. Castiel felt heat rise into his vessel's cheeks.

"I think this is happiness I am feeling" the angel added awkwardly then, obeying an urge, he stroked Sam's hair with another smile. "Thanks to you, little one."

Sam's face grew red with a flush, just like before.

"You're weird" the boy mumbled timidly, but there was no animosity in his eyes, just honesty. Just then, footsteps approached them and Dean appeared by his brother's side, crouching down. Castiel noticed the slight flinch jolting the tiny body and he was sure Dean did, as well.

"Everythin' alright, Sammy?" the hunter decided to ignore the reaction and pasted a smile onto his face.

"Cas is weird" Sam informed him, but smiled brightly. "I have a weird friend!"

"I'm glad you're happy about it" Dean replied with a laugh. Castiel felt oddly satisfied by the pride in the little boy's declaration, as well.

"Listen, kiddo" Dean began then, his face turning serious. Sam's eyes widened in fear, but still leaned into Dean's side, resting his head on his shoulder. Dean hugged him but forced himself to continue. "I have to go meet someone. It's important adult stuff."

His words had an unexpected reaction: Sam burst into tears.

"Hey, hey" Dean soothed quickly and stood up, bringing the little boy with him. The angel watched in worry as the older Winchester began pacing up and down, rubbing at the small, heaving back and closing his eyes in pain as sad, frightened sobs erupted out of the little boy, muffled by his shoulder. "Ssh, Sammy, it's okay..."

"D-Don't go-o!" Sam wailed in such a heartbroken tone, even Castiel felt his vessel's throat tighten with emotion.

"Sshshssh, sweetheart" Dean whispered, pressing kisses into the brown curls brushing at his cheek. "I won't be away for long, I promise. Just an hour or so, okay? I'll be right back to play with you. And hey! You're new, weird friend can stay with you, okay?"

Dean's pleading look towards the angel was unnecessary, but Castiel nodded, anyway. He would've offered himself, as well, to look after the little boy. Although, he already did.

Sam cried some more, utterly broken by the prospect of his brother leaving him. Castiel didn't understand why the little boy acted like this, even with the promise of Dean's return. This attachment didn't seem healthy, but now, following Dean's suggestion of trying, he attempted to understand the reason.

The two brothers, all throughout their lives, had only each other as company and as support. Even though their father had tried his best to provide for them, his heart was mostly consumed by the thirst for revenge, so the children had to rely on each other to get by. And, as Castiel had observed a few times, children, who lost their mothers at an early enough age not to remember them, had the tendency to cling to the closest mother figure they could find. For Sam, it must have been his big brother, the one who always took care of him and showed affection to him. Even in adulthood, Sam Winchester showed great attachment to his brother, but became hardened after he lost him for good, or so he thought.

By that conclusion, losing Dean for Sam Winchester would be like losing a parent. Castiel would hazard the guess that it would be like losing a mother.

But the little boy's reaction still seemed too extreme...

Unless the child can sense the impression of memories from his adult self.

Sam might not be remembering the actual losses of his brother, whether temporary or almost permanent, but it must have scarred his soul enough, even a de-aging spell couldn't erase it without a trace.

Castiel, finishing his train of thought, found the brothers silent, standing in one spot. Dean's eyes were closed and he rested his temple against the little boy's, swaying to the sides in a comforting pace. Sam was now only hiccuping every once in a while, just riding along the emotional roller-coaster.

After a couple seconds, Dean opened his eyes and leaned back slightly, letting Sam look at him with a tear-filled gaze, streaks shining on the chubby cheeks.

"I will come back to you" Dean whispered, wiping away the tear tracks with the back of his finger. "I promise."

Sam stared at his big brother heartbroken, but finally nodded.

"You p-promised" the child hiccuped out as sternly as possible. "You keep it."

"I will" Dean answered with a fire in his eyes that Castiel actually recognized in himself: determination.

With that, Dean turned to the angel, his determination turning into protective warning.

"Look after him."

The angel could practically feel the burn of those flames on his skin. He stood up and stepped closer, surprised by the bravery he had to muster for it, and reached out to the little boy. Sam let himself be transferred from one embrace to the other and Castiel held him tightly, letting the child keep his focus on his brother. One of his hands rested on the little boy's head soothingly.

"I will protect him with my life" he swore, gazing deeply into Dean Winchester's eyes. The hunter held his gaze for a moment then leaned above Sam and pressed one final kiss onto the boy's cheek.

"Bye, Sammy" Dean whispered with an encouraging smile. "I'll be back soon."

Sam nodded and watched his brother grab a bag and walk out the motel room, sniffing mournfully and breaking the angel's heart - at least that was the only way Castiel could explain the agony erupting in his chest.

No... it was his grace weeping for such an innocent soul's suffering.

* * *

"And who is this?"

"That's Daddy."

Castiel took in the stick figure staring up at him. He should've known the answer. The figure had dark scribbles around his face, indicating a beard and shaggy hair. It didn't have as wide a smile as the small stick figure of Sam, though. It still astounded him how perceptive children can be.

"I am glad the sun is happy again" he said, pointing at the yellow face in the sky.

"It's happy day" Sam replied. Castiel looked up at him from his perch on the floor next to Sam's bed. The little boy was sitting cross-legged against the headboard, hunched over. His cheeks were still drying from the tears that had only ebbed away a few minutes ago, ten minutes after Dean's departure. At least the boy didn't try to separate himself from the angel and was open to distraction. However, the tone in those words piqued Castiel's attention: it sounded resigned.

"What is wrong?" he asked, stroking Sam's head tenderly. Sam looked at him then dared a quick glance to the duffel bag on the opposite end of the room. Castiel followed his gaze and sighed. When he had managed to convince Sam to draw some more pictures, the little boy had asked for pencils that Dean had kept in his bag. After finding them and handing them over, Castiel had noticed the little boy staring in fear at the bag. He had turned to check what had frightened him.

And had found himself staring at the silver barrel of a gun.

He had tried to save what he could, zipping up the bag and averting Sam's attention, but apparently his efforts lasted until now.

"Do you know what that is?" he asked seriously. He was praying for strength to teach this young soul the right way... like Dean would.

"Daddy has one" Sam mumbled, lowering his eyes to his trembling hands. "A g-gun. Goes _Bang_. And loud."

"Do you know why your Dad has it?"

Sam flitted his gaze up at the angel then back down, before shaking his head.

"In movies, it's scary" the boy said softly and Castiel could feel his small frame shivering. "People... people go... away..."

"That's true" Castiel nodded. "But the gun is not dangerous. It's an object without life. It needs a person to operate. If someone has a gun, they decide whether the gun will be dangerous or not."

Sam was now watching him, taking in his words with a frown.

"And Daddy?" he asked uncertainly.

"Have you seen your Dad use a gun before?"

Sam shook his head again.

"Well, I have" Castiel answered, keeping his gaze on the child, monitoring his reactions. "Your Dad never used it until it was necessary. In his hands the gun is not dangerous, because he learned how to use it and when to use it. And he only uses it against bad people, when he has no other choice." The angel was sure Dean hadn't informed his younger brother about hunting and monsters, so the obscuring of the truth was important. It was easy, though. As long as Sam understood his words' meaning, he didn't need to be scarred.

Sam, once again, fell silent, making sense of Castiel's explanation.

"Deanie has one?"

"Yes" the angel replied. "And your Dad taught him well how to use it."

"I don't want to" Sam shook his head with wide eyes. Castiel smiled in relief.

"You can't even if you want to" he said sternly. "You need to learn how to use it properly. Which won't happen for a long time."

The little boy seemed to relax at that and when Castiel carded his fingers soothingly through his hair, he sneaked a peek into his mind. He was pleased to find his message clicking into place:

 _'Don't use a gun, unless you learned well how to use it!'_

His soothing action, however, pulled a big yawn out of the little boy. The angel guessed that he was physically and emotionally tired.

"Why don't you take a nap?" he suggested, but Sam shook his head firmly.

"Deanie's not back."

"I'll tell you what" the angel said, smiling as he let the warmth of his inspiration wash over him. "If you lie down to sleep, time will move faster. Before you realize it, Dean will be back with you."

"Really?" the child sounded so hopeful, Castiel felt his grace resonate with it.

"Really" he replied with a nod. Sam quickly jumped up and practically tore the blanket off of the bed in his haste to get under it. Castiel quickly sent the pencils back into their boxes and he put it onto the nightstand with the drawing. When he turned back, he found the little boy's eyes closed and his hands clasped together in front of him. Castiel laid his arm above the child's head to support himself while his free hand carded through the soft, brown curls tenderly. He couldn't get enough of the feel of it - like the fresh, clean feathers of newborn cherubs.

 _'Now I lay me down to sleep'_

Sam's voice appeared so suddenly in the angel's head, that he jumped slightly. He wasn't looking through the child's mind right now, so how could he...? Then he realized: Sam was praying.

 _'Pray the Lord my soul to keep'_

Castiel frowned deeply. That sounded so familiar... Not just the rhyme, but the voice, as well. Many children prayed that rhyme in their heads as a start, but something in his existence pulled him towards Sam's voice. His grace vibrated inside him with a thrill he hadn't felt for a long time now.

 _'If I die before I wake'_

He never liked that line, always saddening him for all the innocent lives lost over the centuries - in sickness, accidents, or cruel acts of humanity...

 _'Pray the Lord my soul to take.'_

Castiel stroked Sam's head soothingly. No matter who is being brought before his Father, He would always judge fairly. He loved all of humanity and Sam Winchester wouldn't be an exception. Although, Castiel wouldn't let him be an exception, anyway...

 _'Dear God'_ Sam prayed further and Castiel closed his eyes, trying to remember why his voice sounded so familiar. _'Please make Dean happy and smile often. He is big and scary now, but he is smiling and happy, too. Please make him smile even more. Thank you, Amen.'_

And then it hit him.

 _'Dear God, make Dean happy-'_

 _'Dear God, I just want Dean to be happy-'_

 _'Please make Dean smile more often, so Daddy can smile more often-'_

 _'I just want him to be happy-'_

 _'Please, let Dean understand my decision about Stanford, because I want him to be happy for me. I know it's selfish, but I only want him to be happy, because then I will be happy...'_

 _'Dear God, please keep Dad safe so Dean won't be heartbroken-'_

 _'Please, let us stop the demon soon, because Dean can't take anymore and I just want him to be happy...'_

Many more prayers like that resurfaced in Castiel's memory, all of them having only one purpose: praying for Dean's happiness. It floored the angel how dedicated the younger Winchester was, praying even as an adult for nothing else, just for his brother to be happy. Even when he prayed for his own salvation, he intertwined it with his brother's feelings, wishing to spare him the agony of killing him if he turned bad. He had been praying nonstop for a way to save Dean from Hell, just so the older Winchester could have a life again, and find happiness.

The last prayer was the most desperate, and Castiel knew when it was sent up to Heaven:

 _'Why did you have to take him...? He doesn't deserve Hell, he deserves happiness... An actual life... Why did you do it? Why do you despise us so much...? What did we do to deserve this...? What did_ _ **he**_ _do? Saved too many people? Or not enough?_

 _Why didn't you take me instead? I deserve Hell, I belong in Hell... Why did you take_ _ **him**_ _instead...?'_

Castiel blinked and looked down onto the now sleeping, peaceful features of a young Sam Winchester. He just couldn't outline the path leading this innocent, sweet boy to the broken, vengeful adult, who's willing to damn himself for a cause with methods that could ultimately sabotage the brothers' relationship... And yet, the younger man did everything to make his decision justified. Because in Sam Winchester's head, getting revenge on Lilith will make Dean happy...

The angel only wished the adult would realize the error of his ways. Because what he was reasoning with would only cause pain for both brothers in the end.

Although, now he understood Sam's reaction at their first encounter to his words addressed to him.

 _'The boy with the demon blood.'_

Hearing that from someone you had prayed to your whole life, had faith in to help you towards salvation...

He closed his eyes as the small rapping of raindrops hit the window outside. He let the teardrop roll down his vessel's cheek, letting himself be captured by the intensity of his thoughts. Then, a minute later, he wiped the teardrop away and straightened up.

He might be helpless in aiding the Winchesters properly during the battle with Lilith, but he could offer his assistance in small ways like protecting this child from harm.

He may have to follow orders he doubts, but he still can atone for it by small good deeds.

* * *

The motel room door opened then closed and heavy boots thudded across the floor.

"Sammy?" Dean called out just as he appeared in the doorway. Castiel looked up and lifted a finger to his mouth, shushing the older Winchester quickly. Dean looked taken aback by that, but once he found his little brother, sleeping curled up on the bed and surrounded by the protective wall of Castiel's arm, he smiled.

"How is he?" Dean whispered, toeing off his boots and creeping up to the bed, kneeling down next to it. Castiel lifted his hand off of Sam's head to let the human stroke the soft hair.

"He was missing you, but I managed to distract him" Castiel replied. "He's been sleeping ever since."

"Good" Dean breathed in relief.

"He saw your gun."

Dean turned wide, panicked eyes onto the angel, who quickly recounted the conversation he had with the little boy.

"Wow" Dean smiled gratefully at him. "Thank you, Castiel." The way the hunter said his full name showed the angel Dean's honesty. "You couldn't have explained it to him better."

They sat in silence, just watching over the little boy, then Castiel gave in to his curiosity.

"Where did you need to go?"

"The witch called me" Dean said. Judging by the lack of fury in his eyes and voice, things had gone well. "She wanted to apologize for what she did. Turns out she wasn't an actual witch with a demon deal, but an unlucky idiot who stumbled upon a spell book."

"So what did she use?"

"Just an innocent de-aging spell" Dean shrugged. "It wears off in a week. She didn't know why Sam turned into a five-year-old, but practically tackled me to show her some pictures." Dean sniggered as he remembered. "She didn't mean any harm, she was just reacting instinctively when Sam tried to attack her."

"But why did Sam attack her, if she was harmless?"

"I don't know. When we tried to interrogate her about the juicy info, she got scared and used a spell that sent a force of energy at us. It was just supposed to knock us off our feet. I was the lucky one to get the edge of a small table into my back. My guess is Sam thought she was gonna hurt us. He's... kinda explosive nowadays."

"He's fine, though."

"Yeah, she assured me the spell was harmless. And I have to call her as soon as it wears off so she can burn the book. Just to avoid stuff like this."

Castiel nodded, something loosening up inside him. He looked back down at the little boy and smiled when he caught him returning to the waking world.

Hazel-green eyes blinked sleepily then landed on Dean.

"DEANIE!"

The reaction was instantaneous: Sam propelled himself toward his brother, wrapping his little arms around him tightly.

"Oof!" Dean rocked back onto his heels, holding the little boy tightly. "Heya, Sammy, I missed you, too, bud."

"Cas said if I slept, you'll be back sooner" Sam told him excitedly.

"And?" Dean raised an eyebrow curiously as they pulled back. "Did it work?"

"Yes!" Sam shouted in joy. "You're here." The child then turned to Castiel and leaning over the gap, he hugged the angel without climbing out of Dean's hold. "Thank you, Cas!" Dean also had to lean forward if he didn't want his brother to fall.

"You're welcome, little one" Castiel replied, smiling as his grace rejoiced with Sam. A child's happiness was like the nectar of angels, giving life and light to a harsh reality.

"Thanks, Cas" Dean added with another grateful smile. "I owe you one."

"No need" the angel shook his head. "It was a pleasure." Suddenly, he snapped his head up, frowning then sighing with reluctance. "I have to leave. I'm needed elsewhere."

His own aching chest was reflected by the fallen looks of the Winchesters, especially Sam's. That's when Castiel fully realized the concept of sadness.

"Will you come back?" the little boy asked dejectedly.

"Yeah, come visit when you can" Dean agreed. The angel, for the first time, faced the older Winchester's genuine care.

"We will see" Castiel replied. "But I will make sure to return before it's over."

Dean smiled and nodded as he hugged his little brother tightly.

With a flap of his wings, Castiel left the brothers alone, taking the memory of that day to keep forever.

* * *

 _A few days later..._

"Hello, Dean."

Dean Winchester jumped with a soft yelp, the plate in his hand jumping out of his grip. Luckily, his instincts were fast enough to catch it before it shattered on the floor. He whipped around annoyed, but it eased off a little when he met the bright blue gaze of Castiel.

"Hey, Cas" he greeted the angel, but glared at him half-heartedly. "Maybe next time leave giving me a heart attack out, okay?"

"I apologize" Castiel replied. "I came as soon as I was able."

"It's alright " Dean smiled as his heart slowly settled down. "You're still in time." With that he stepped to the side and called out:

"Sammy, could you come here a minute?"

Quickly, fast footsteps took off towards the doorway and a second later a small five-year-old appeared in it, taking in the sight in the kitchen.

"CASTIE!"

Castiel, not expecting the different nickname, stood still as the young Sam Winchester tackled his legs in a tight hug. A moment later, he leaned down and lifted the little boy into his arms, giving him a proper embrace.

"You're back!" The angel was a little grateful that he had no actual hearing, because he would have probably lost it from the ecstatic scream right into his ears.

"I'm happy to see you, too, little one" he said, rocking the boy gently to elongate their hug. "How have you been?" he asked once the child pulled back to look at him.

"My head doesn't hurt anymore" Sam told him. "Deanie and I washed the Impala. I drew pictures and watched cartoons. I had cereal for breakfast."

Dean burst out laughing in the background as his little brother informed an angel about something simple as breakfast as if it was breaking news.

"Did you like it?" Castiel asked with honest curiosity.

"Yum" Sam nodded many times, bouncing in excitement.

"You wanna show Cas what you did?" Dean asked in a tone that could only hype up a child. Which is what it did with Sam.

"Yes!" Sam shouted and wriggled around to be let down. Castiel complied and watched him run off.

"I'm glad to see him alright" he said to Dean, who nodded.

"The spell wears off in a few minutes" the hunter said. "Wanna stay for it?"

"Of course."

His reply earned a friendly pat on the shoulder and the angel felt the warmth spreading in his gut, easing his usual tension that appeared when he was on Earth among humans.

Sam then returned with a paper in his hands.

"Looky!" he cried out, jumping up and down. "I drew this for you!"

Castiel picked the little boy back up then turned his attention to the drawing.

And the unnecessary oxygen halted in his vessel's lungs.

"This is me" Sam explained, pointing at a small stick figure with shaggy brown hair and a big smile. "And this is Deanie" the yellow haired stick figure in the coat had just as big a smile, as the two held hands. "And this is you" Sam finished proudly, turning big hazel-green eyes onto the angel's awestruck face.

Castiel took in the child's depiction of him. He had dark shaggy hair, two blue spots as eyes and a smaller smile. He had the outline of a long brown coat surrounding his stick-body and the usual smiling sun was shining down on the three of them.

What had him floored, was the pair of huge dark wings surrounding all three of them, sprinkled with dots and stripes of grey. By now he realized that grey on dark in Sam's view was silvery glitters - just like the Impala's fender. How this innocent soul could recreate such a close representation of his wings astounded him.

And what had his grace rejoice more than ever in his existence and made his eyes tear up was his hands holding onto the brothers', creating a circle that spread the warmth inside him into every fiber of his being.

He was welcomed into the trust of the Winchesters, after all.

"I love it" he whispered, his eyes roaming over the picture, wishing to sear it into his memories. With an idea, he turned to Sam. "May I keep it?"

Sam's eyes, filled with hope, rounded out even more in excitement.

"Really?"

"Yes" Castiel nodded earnestly. "I want to have it with me for the rest of my existence. This is the most precious gift anyone has ever given me. Thank you so much, little one."

Sam was listening to him with mouth gaping in shock. The two - maybe, luckily - didn't notice Dean surreptitiously wiping at his eyes. What the angel said to his little brother was so moving, he wanted to believe it to be true.

"You're welcome, Cas" Sam finally replied politely, recovering from his shock. He hugged Castiel again. "I love you, Castie."

"I love you, too, little one" the angel replied and meant every syllable of it.

Their tender moment was interrupted when Sam straightened up. A whimper of pain escaped the tiny frame that began shivering in Cas' arms.

"Sammy?" Dean called out, instantly worried.

"Dizzy..." Sam whimpered miserably, lifting a hand up to his head. Dean pulled him out of Castiel's hold and hurried into the bedroom, the angel following him. He laid the child down, but by the time his head hit the pillow, Sam was out cold.

"I think it's time" Dean said, glancing at Castiel. The angel was once again staring at the drawing before he folded it up and placed it into his pocket. Dean would probably swear on his life that Castiel was misty-eyed.

"Shouldn't you undress him?" the angel asked concerned, watching the little boy in the bed.

"I don't think I need to. He was already in children's clothes when he turned" Dean answered, focusing back onto his brother, stroking his head to comfort him even in unconsciousness. The two stayed still, just watching over the boy, but soon his small frame was engulfed by the bright blue light. Dean turned his head away to keep his vision intact, but Castiel watched as the light stretched out fully on the mattress before dissipating, leaving behind the still form of the adult Sam Winchester.

A groan was the first sign of the younger man's awakening then hazel-green eyes opened sluggishly, rolling around unfocused before landing on Dean.

"Hey, Sammy" the older brother whispered. "How are you feeling?"

Sam blinked a couple times, seemingly rousing himself more and more each time. Soon he began pushing himself upright and Dean helped him lean against the headboard.

"I'm okay" Sam finally answered, sounding coherent. "Just a little worn out." His eyes turned towards Castiel, only widening in surprise.

"I'm glad to see you again, Sam" the angel greeted him with a nod. The young man watched him confused, but soon it cleared up and the human smiled uncertainly.

"Hey, Cas."

"Do you remember what happened?" Dean asked, sitting onto the edge of the mattress. Sam blushed slightly but nodded.

"It was my fault" he said, lowering his eyes guiltily. "I thought... she hurt you and I..."

"Hey, it's okay" Dean slid closer and pulled his brother into a hug. "We're okay now. And no more chick-flick moments about it after this, got it?"

Sam chuckled as he returned the gesture tightly. As they separated, the younger Winchester turned back to Castiel.

"Thank you so much" he said, his eyes reflecting some of the hope and gratitude the little boy had. "For taking care of me and helping Dean."

"It was my pleasure" Castiel replied honestly. "I am... happy that you are well."

Sam blushed even deeper but smiled.

"I guess the sun is smiling today" he muttered, gazing into the bright blue eyes teasingly. Castiel returned the smile.

"I am certain it is."

* * *

 _A few months later..._

Castiel stared out into the darkness, lost in his own mind. The harsh words of Dean Winchester were echoing through his mind over and over. He tried to get the hunter to understand, but the other was resisting.

Why would someone deny themselves eternal peace? Humans wished for nothing else, and yet... Here was one human, who would rather suffer for an eternity in such a messy, disturbed world than to live a long, happy existence, without troubles, without sins, without worries...

 _"It's all a bunch of lies, you poor stupid son of a bitch!"_

He sighed as his mind screamed at him in Dean's voice. He had encountered his own doubts about the transpiring event, but the orders are for the greater good. They just want to bring peace to everyone! No one can change destiny.

Yet, again, here's one human, who would die for it. Who would lay down their life just to have this... agonizing planet stay as it is. But why?

 _"You were gonna help me once, weren't you? You were gonna warn me about this before they dragged you back to Bible Camp. Help me, please!"_

Yes, he was going to alert Dean about his own doubts, maybe offer him some assistance. But they found him... They made him see reason... Then why does he feel so torn up about it?

Castiel shoved his hands into the pockets of the trenchcoat, his shoulders hunching over tiredly. A posture he had picked up from the humans some time ago. He felt tired and just wanted to get this over with. He had been praying for the peace waiting for them after this, but it was taking so long to get it...

He frowned as his fingers brushed something different than the textile of the trenchcoat. As he gently felt around it, he realized it was a folded paper. He pulled it out and opened it up, confused why this got into his pocket.

He stared at the child's drawing on it, his blue eyes slowly filling up with realization.

 _"I drew this for you!"_

A small child, an innocent soul bouncing excitedly, introducing him to the figures in the picture...

 _"I have a weird friend!"_

He unconsciously let a smile flash across his face. The happiest memory of his existence...

 _"This is the most precious gift anyone has ever given to me."_

It was a selfless act of a tiny child, who was terrified of him at first then welcomed him as a friend... As a part of his tiny, broken family...

Castiel traced his finger over the dark wings sprouting from the stick figure's back, embracing the other two protectively, and the figure was holding their hands.

 _"I will protect him with my life."_

And that little boy is now rushing head first into the Apocalypse.

 _"You know what's real? People. Families. That's real! And you're gonna watch 'em all burn?!"_

 _"What is so worth saving? I see nothing but pain here!"_

Yes, that was his response.

And this, in his hands, was the painful reminder how wrong he was.

Castiel blinked slowly, trying to get his emotions under control. In the undisturbed darkness, memories resurfaced: two brothers laughing in an embrace, clinging to each other desperately, a young boy, hands clasped together praying for his brother's happiness... Two arms embracing him... A pat on his shoulder...

 _'Is_ _ **this**_ _worth saving then, you stupid son of a bitch?'_

The voice resounding inside him sounded so much like Dean... And it was right. If this wasn't worth saving... then he might as well just get his sword out and end his existence.

Feeling a wild flame flare inside him, he folded the drawing and pocketed it. Shoulders squaring with determination, he disappeared from the pier he had been standing on.

He knew what he must do.

And he would rather die than just watch from the side the Winchester brothers fighting alone.

 _The End_

* * *

 **Soooo... how was it?**

 **I like it, but I hope you do, too. And the last scene... I just couldn't resist. Thank Youtube for that. I rewatched the Castiel and Dean scenes in the green room on it and it fits so well. :D**

 **Anyways, I still need to tackle the next prompt, so it'll be posted the day after tomorrow at the latest, I swear.**

 **See you soon!**


	4. Chapter 4 For ItzAGoodThing

**ULTIMATE DISCLAIMER: Every content, character, plot etc. that anyone is able to recognize as other's property is NOT mine. I have no intention to get into any trouble involving law and money.**

 **Hey, guys!**

 **Next one:  
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 **Prompt: _"Sam and Dean are in a car accident while having an argument, Dean is driving. Set after season 3, maybe?"_ by ItzAGoodThing. I once wrote a car accident with the boys, just for myself, but I have to say: I like how this one turned out much, MUCH better. :D So thank you for this awesome prompt! ^.^  
**

 **Set: After Season 6 Episode 12. I rewatched the episode just to remember (best time-waster EVER! :D).  
**

 **Warnings: Hurt!Sam, Guilty!Mothering!Dean, the AwesomestOfAwesome!Bobby. Doctor speech and injuries are the spawn of my common sense only. I'm not a doctor, so if I made grave errors: I'm sowwy... *pouts* And just in case: OOC. I'm trying, guys, I swear, but I'm never sure about it. *hides* I know, I suck...  
**

 **Oh, and I couldn't resist the tiny bit at the ending. ^.^ As the kids say nowadays: _#NotSorry_**

 **Anyways, enjoy the story, guys! :D**

* * *

 _ **Rise From Wreckage**_

A pained moan slipped under the cacophony of crickets' chirps. Dazed green eyes opened to slits, trying to focus on the surroundings. Trees... Darkness... Crickets... Cold... Pain...

Dean Winchester shut his eyes tightly as he tried to overcome the numbing agony engulfing his whole body. He felt the hard press of something round against his cheek and chest, and cool plastic pressed against the underside of his left arm, while white hot pain kept a tight hold on his left leg. He shifted his head, his cheek sliding along the smooth, round object. He lifted his hands slowly, wincing from the screaming of his muscles as he moved. He grabbed the round object that, it turned out, had holes in it.

He looked up again and forced himself to lift up a little, his arms shaking from the effort. His eyes slid downward and he found a steering wheel as his pillow. He frowned in confusion as his mind tried to register everything. It was the Impala's steering wheel...

Something warm and thick trailed over his forehead and down his nose, but he ignored it in favor of straightening up in his seat. He was in the Impala, engine cut off and in pain, and as the elevation of his suddenly throbbing head changed, he had to close his eyes to prevent passing out.

"Sammy?" he rasped out, swallowing against the dryness of his throat. He waited for the answering moan next to him or a sharp intake of breath as a reply, but nothing. Not even regular breathing...

He turned his head with a yelp of pain. He will be covered with bruises tomorrow, he could feel it. His neck protested any movement, but he needed to check on Sam...

He opened his eyes again.

And froze.

The passenger seat was empty. Dean blinked a couple times, trying to dispel the illusion, but the sight remained reality. Sam was gone. Who could've taken him? Maybe some bastard found them and beat Dean up before whisking away the younger man. He had to go after them before it's too late-

His terrified gaze roaming over his surroundings, more alert than ever, pinned onto something he didn't ever want to see in his life:

A large hole in the windshield, right in front of the passenger seat.

Broken outwards.

Dean's heart began beating rapidly, arousing his sluggish mind instantly. Something must have gotten in and took Sam through the windshield in its hurry-

Everything in him turned to ice.

The front of the car looked like a squished harmonica - wedged against a tree trunk.

 _'No'_ he thought, panic strangling his dry throat. _'Please, no...'_

Dismissing many of his aches and pains, he grabbed the door handle and yanked on it. The latch clicked open, but the door itself didn't want to budge. Dean leaned against it, grunting with effort as he pushed. As he managed to put most of his upper-body weight into it, the door screeched open. Dean felt the harsh tug on his left leg, twisting it into the wrong angle, so he quickly grabbed onto the steering wheel to keep his balance. He reached down with one hand and experimentally pulled on his leg. With some careful shifting and fiddling, the trapped limb was freed, so with a weak shove he tumbled out of the car.

He cried out in pain as his torso throbbed, indicating some possibly broken ribs. His leg, however, ceased to exist in the fire of agony for a couple seconds. Dean took deep breaths to calm himself down, closing his eyes to focus on gathering himself together.

 _"DEAN!"_

 _Screeching tires..._

 _Humongous crash..._

 _Pain... Then darkness..._

Dean gasped for air as he forced himself back to reality. He was panting like he had just run the marathon, and his ears were ringing after the jumbled sounds of his memories. No, it couldn't be... He never...

Shaking his head to clear it, Dean pushed against the cold, hard ground. He bit his lower lip hard enough to taste blood as he forced himself into sitting. Once he succeeded to relax his muscles, he turned his attention to his left leg. It seemed stiff and his jeans were a little torn. His ankle looked swollen, as well, probably a sprain. He could live with it for now. He had to get up right now!

He had to find Sam!

Using the nearby handle of the car door, Dean wrestled himself onto his feet, with pained groans and yelps. The top edge of the window almost sliced his fingers off when he rested his weight on it until he straightened up fully. He took a breather, gathering strength for more movements. As soon as his chest stopped heaving and he managed to inhale an entire lungful of air, he pushed away from his support.

"Sammy!" he shouted out hoarsely. He could barely put any weight on his left ankle, and his leg was shaking so hard, he was swaying dangerously. He had to grab onto the wreck of the Impala and the tree trunk to keep himself upright. He rounded them, ready to take a long trek to find his brother and the monster that took him.

He didn't have to go very far.

A long, dark figure lay motionless on the ground, wearing dark jeans and a dark brown jacket. It had heavy army boots on and ended with a disheveled mop of chestnut-brown hair. Dean would recognize him with eyes closed.

"Sam" he called out, but when no response greeted him, he hurriedly stumbled closer, hugging his torso with one arm and limping heavily. He made a lot of noise, unable to keep quiet, but he had to hurry if he wanted to get out with his brother before the wildlife decided to start in on the free snack.

When he reached Sam's side, he grimaced with a moan of pain as he let himself collapse on the ground. He lay his hand onto Sam's back, but his heart stopped for a beat when he realized how cold his brother was. Dean pulled himself closer, sliding his hand upwards in an attempt of a comforting stroke. He leaned down to check on the younger man's features.

Sam was whiter than ever, his eyes having dark bags under them and closed, without a flutter of life. The bottom half of Sam's face was obscured by the collar of the jacket, but something else caught the older Winchester's attention.

A dark puddle of liquid right under Sam's head.

 _Blood!_

Dean shook his head again, this time in denial. _'No, it can't be...'_

"Sammy?" he asked, cursing inwardly how his voice choked up. "Let's go... Stop fooling around and let's go!" He wanted to shake his stubborn brother, but his instincts wouldn't let him. He just carded his free fingers through the dampening tresses, but he froze once more as something sticky brushed at his skin. He pulled his hand back...

And gagged in horror: his hand was coated completely in red.

Dean glanced back at the wreck and the tears drowning him emerged into his eyes before rolling down his cheeks. The hole... The angle of Sam's body... The glass exploded outwards...

 _"DEAN!" CRASH!_

Dean gulped as he fought for control over his now fully-panicking mind. Sobs exploded out of his chest as soon as his lungs let in some oxygen and Dean leaned down, pressing his face into his little brother's hair. His chest was aching from the angle, but it was being torn to shreds for a different reason.

No time for that now, though.

"It's okay, Sammy" Dean choked out, pressing a kiss onto the cold temple he could reach. "I'm getting help for you. Hold on, bud."

With that, he pushed himself up and onto his feet with a cry of pain. Taking as little time as he could, he hobbled towards the edge of the woods, plenty visible from where they were. He avoided the wreck with his gaze and didn't let anything distract him until he got to the road.

He looked up and down, but when no sign of life jumped out at him, he let loose a couple sobs. He quickly shoved one hand into his jacket pocket, but his heart constricted even more painfully when he took in the crack on the screen. He pressed a button, but the blackness never receded.

His phone was broken.

Dean suddenly felt himself being torn to pieces inside. He had to get his brother immediate help: the kid was unconscious and losing blood by the minute. But trudging back to the car and digging up Sam's phone would take too much extra time and Sam might be worse off by the time help arrived.

He looked up and down the road once again, hoping, and maybe even praying, for a miracle to unbalance the Winchester luck at least once in their goddamn life!

Almost instantly, his plea was answered: a pair of headlights was growing bigger as it got closer to Dean. Once he could just make out the shape of a car, he stumbled onto the road, waving with his free hand as frantically as his aching torso let him.

"Hey!" He cried out, not even caring if they didn't hear him over their own engine. However, the car slowed down to a stop right in front of Dean and the driver's side door opened up. A man in his thirties jumped out and closed in on him, his dark eyes filled with concern and confusion.

"Jesus, are you okay, man?" he asked, but Dean, overwhelmingly relieved for the help he received, stumbled to him, grabbing the man's jacket tightly as he sobbed.

"Plea-ease!" he keened, big, rounded green eyes piercing the man through as hands grabbed the swaying, injured body gently. "Help him!"

"It's okay, pal" the man replied, his grip tightening around the unsteady Winchester. "Just tell me what happened, okay?"

"Car..." Dean tried to focus but Sam's life was slipping away! They couldn't waste time! "My little brother... Help him!"

"Finn" a woman standing next to the passenger side's door called out. "I'm already calling an ambulance. Go ahead!" The man, apparently Finn, nodded.

"Alright" he spoke firmly, wrapping Dean's arm around his shoulders. "Show the way."

* * *

Finn Wesker, an ordinary construction worker, had never imagined that returning home from a vacation with his wife Geena would end in such a heartbreaking way. He always hated driving in the middle of the night, too scared of killer hitchhikers and other urban legends coming true. Geena always shook her head indulgently whenever that topic came up. But they were in the homestretch, just outside their town.

And seeing the bloody, limping mess of this man and feeling his tremors against his side, he knew this was serious - and real.

"Sammy..." the man choked out next to him, and as Finn looked around, he understood his fears. The car, a beautiful Impala, had impacted a tree head on, crumbling up the front almost up to the windshield, which was broken out. He thought steam would come out of the wreck, but the air was clear. How long had this been sitting here?

"Sammy", as the injured man called him, was lying face first on the ground. To innocent eyes, he looked like he was just sleeping. But as he helped the man closer to his brother, he could discern slight details that didn't fit that image: the twisted angle of an arm, the bloody leg of the jeans, the pooling dark puddle around his head...

The man in his grip pulled away and collapsed next to his brother. Finn watched as more tears escaped his eyes, and ignoring his obvious pains, he leaned down to the slack, white face and whispered into his ear:

"You're gonna be fine, Sammy. This nice man is here to help, okay?"

The broken, almost child-like tone could've obliterated Finn, but he instead concentrated on getting these two the help they needed. He knelt down and rested a hand on the unconscious man's back.

"Don't..." the other mumbled, his wide green eyes pleading with Finn desperately.

"It's okay" Finn soothed him, feeling a surge of protectiveness wash over him. "I won't move him... Just checking."

As soon as he received a nod, he slid his finger gently under the collar of the brown jacket, searching with a frown. The worry was increasing second by second as the silence and lack of anything stretched on.

Then... a weak thump against the tip of his index finger.

Finn shifted his hand to have better access and soon he could make out the flutter of a pulse under ice-cold skin. He had to suppress his own shivers at the touch.

"He's alive" he determined. The sobs erupting out of the man, accompanied by the relieved slouch of tense shoulders, made Finn probably the proudest he had ever been in his life to deliver such wonderful news. He turned towards the road as the man whispered softly into his brother's ear.

"GEENA!"

"They're coming!" she shouted back, waiting for the ambulance. "Just a couple minutes!"

A couple minutes seemed like an eternity and the brother was already freezing and growing weaker. With a sudden idea, he ripped his own jacket off and gently covered Sam's back, hoping at least this much could keep him warm until help arrived.

"What's your name?" he asked the man, who was now caressing the brown mop of hair lovingly. Wide, still panicked green eyes pinned onto him once again. Finn hoped he wouldn't go into shock, because he didn't know what to do with that.

"D-Dean" the man stuttered out, tears constantly streaming down his cheeks, mixing now with the blood dripping down his nose from a cut on his forehead.

"Can we call anyone?" Finn offered. "A relative or-?"

"Bobby" Dean answered, cutting in with a pained grimace. Finn wasn't sure if it was physical. "Bobby Singer. His number-"

"I know it" Finn interrupted. "We're from Sioux Falls. He fixed my car up a couple years ago. I'll call him as soon as you guys are okay."

"Th-Thank you" Dean nodded gratefully then leaned back down to his brother, continuing his ministrations.

Just then, sirens cut through the eerie silence of the forest, and before they knew it, the area was lit up with blue, flashing lights.

Finn watched as his wife calmly directed the EMT workers to the crash site. At times like this he could only admire her professionalism. She's not a nurse for nothing, after all.

The team instantly descended on the brothers, barking out questions and examining both of them. Two men helped Dean to his feet and led him, against his will, to the ambulance so he could be treated as soon as possible. Three others stayed with Sam and Finn didn't move, knowing Dean wanted someone to keep an eye on the unconscious young man. In a minute, a neck brace was strapped around Sam and they transferred him onto a gurney, covering him up tightly and tying him down securely.

Horror filled Finn's insides as he caught a glimpse of the younger man's face: coated in blood, cuts littering the right side, a crooked nose, a streak of blood trickling down his chin... Pale white features practically glowing in the dark... The medical team was quick to get him to the ambulance and Finn couldn't blame them. The guy's life was on the line right now, they couldn't waste time.

When everyone emerged from the trees, Finn saw his wife talking to a police officer, while Dean, sitting in the back door of one ambulance was fidgeting around searching for his brother desperately. One EMT worker was just bandaging up his forehead, while the other tried to get him to stay still. The other team was letting many instructions fly as they hurried to the other ambulance, but Finn couldn't understand them. He had watched Grey's Anatomy a lot, but he still couldn't recognize any of the procedures by names and instructions.

"Sammy!" Dean cried out, trying to stand up. "Let me see him! Don't let him die, please!"

Finn ran over to the panicking man and wormed his way as unintrusively as possible around the EMT workers.

"Dean, it's alright" he spoke softly, trying to calm the agitated man and avoid a ruckus. "They're taking care of him. He's fine." Those wide green eyes will kill him tonight, breaking his heart over and over without giving it a chance to heal. They showed so much trust that he could only see in his own four-year-old son's eyes.

"He's awake" came the bark of information from the other team. The two men snapped their heads to that direction and Finn managed to catch a glimpse of unfocused dark eyes moving around under half-open eyelids.

"Hear that?" he tried to sound as reassuring as the situation allowed. "He's okay. Let them take care of you, okay?"

Dean, fresh tears streaking down his face, let himself be guided into the back of the ambulance and laid onto a gurney. When Finn turned around, he could see the doors of the other ambulance slamming shut then the vehicle started rolling onto the road.

"Where are you taking them?" he quickly asked before the EMT slammed the door into his face.

"Sioux Falls General" came the immediate answer. As the second ambulance pulled away, Finn yanked his phone out, blessing his good memory as he dialed. Geena walked up to him as a police car pulled out, as well, leaving the couple alone.

"Hello?"

The gruff voice was so familiar and such a blessing in this situation that Finn let out a loud sigh of relief.

"Mr. Singer, it's Finn Wesker."

"Yeah, Finn" the older man's voice was filled with recognition. "I remember you. Honda Ascot, 1990. Car givin' you trouble again?"

"No, sir" Finn gulped nervously then decided to just take the leap. "Do you know two brothers called Sam and Dean?"

The silence on the other end of the line could've convinced Finn that he had gone deaf if not for the crickets resuming their chirping around them. He felt Geena rubbing at his tensing back.

"What happened?" came the demand so suddenly it made Finn jump.

"There was an accident" he explained. "Just outside of town. Sam was worse off than Dean. They're being taken to Sioux Falls General as we speak."

"And the car?" Bobby Singer asked as Finn listened to rustling and... was that a door closing?

"It's still in the woods" Finn felt like a student reporting to a stern teacher to avoid failing the class. "It's not a pretty sight."

"Okay, Finn" Bobby spoke firmly as another door, probably a car's, slammed shut in the background, turning the gruff voice a little echoed. "Can you do something for me?"

"Yes?"

"Wait for me at the car. Then you can go home, I promise. And... thanks, kid."

"No problem" Finn replied, a little taken aback by the emotions in the voice. He did as he was told, guiding the older man to the crash site through the phone.

* * *

Dean began instantly fidgeting as soon as the doctor let out a sigh that indicated he was finishing up.

"I don't know what higher power protected you" the young man spoke grimly "but you're lucky you got away with bruises and a sprained ankle. Even your ribs are intact."

"Can I see my brother?" he asked, trying to ignore the man's words. Lucky? Yeah, his brother was dying a few feet away from him because of his stupidity. Real lucky.

"He's still being taken care of" the doctor replied, pulling his rubber gloves off with a snap.

"I don't care" Dean felt his panic melting into frustration. "Isn't there a waiting room somewhere where I can go?"

"Yes, but there's also a room for you" the doctor snapped back firmly. He didn't seem annoyed, though. "With a bed just for your needs. And practically with your name on it."

"I'm going to my brother" Dean spat out, now getting angry at this stuck-up brat. He scooted to the edge of the bed but a hand slammed him back against the pillows, not hard enough to hurt, but firm enough to still him - and pin him.

"Down!" the doctor ordered a little louder. "You're gonna stay here till someone gets you, you hear me?"

Dean stared bewildered at the smooth, young features of the doctor. Blonde, good-looking, typical rich kid with a silver spoon up his ass since birth - at least by his looks. His demeanor wasn't mean, because at the start of Dean's examination, he was soft-spoken and had a reassuring smile as he told his patient what he was doing. And Dean went with it, trying to get through this as soon as possible, so he could get to Sam, but he couldn't wait any longer.

"I wanna see-"

"I know you want to see Sam" the doctor spoke over his protests with a stern, hardened tone. It reminded Dean of John Winchester and Bobby on occasion. "But right now, everyone with him is busy saving his life. You would only be a distraction if you interfered. In the meantime, you have a nice, comfy bed where you can rest and get some strength back, so when a nurse comes for you to take you to Sam, you can hobble over there even faster than if you exhaust yourself right now and spend even more time in a hard, uncomfortable chair. So you're staying here, understand?"

Dean watched the stern doctor with wide eyes. No one had ever talked to him like this in a hospital before and it was... a welcome change. Finally, a doctor keeping it real and logical instead of trying to sedate him against his will.

"O-Okay" Dean stuttered out as he settled against his pillow. This guy was young and baby-faced, but inside him was a stern, methodical man, one Dean could maybe even respect.

"Don't move until they come for you" the doctor ordered one last time with a reprimanding glare. Dean nodded and watched him leave the room to visit other patients. Yeah, he could do that... And although he didn't want to admit it, the guy was right.

He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, just to rest them for a few minutes.

* * *

The entrance door to the hospital slid open, letting through the world-weary form of Bobby Singer. As soon as his eyes landed on the receptionist, he hurried to her.

"My name is Robert Singer" he started immediately, impatient to get to his boys. "I'm here for Sam and Dean Hendricks. H-E-N-D-R-I-C-K-S."

"One moment, sir" the girl, not giving away if she was annoyed by his behavior or not, tapped at the keyboard. "Are you a relative?"

"Uncle" Bobby replied with a nod, his fingers clenching into fists then relaxing multiple times. He resisted the urge to tap his foot.

"Mr. Singer!"

Bobby looked up and found Carl Peters walking towards him with a smile.

"Hey, kid" he flashed a polite smile to the young man. "Your Daddy doin' okay?"

"Yes, sir" the blond nodded with a wide smile. "And how are you?"

"I'm fine" Bobby kept shooting glances at the receptionist, who was still browsing the records on her computer. "I'm just here for the boys."

"Boys?"

Bobby nodded when he caught a confused look in the blue eyes.

"They got into an accident-"

"Car accident?" Carl asked worriedly. "Are you by any chance looking for Dean and Sam?"

Bobby froze as he turned his widened, surprised gaze to the doctor.

"How...?"

"I just came from checking up on Dean" Carl replied, worried now. "He's doing alright physically, just a lot of bruises, a cut on his forehead and a sprained ankle."

"Just that?" Bobby mumbled stunned, scratching at his head. Judging by the state of the car, he was expecting two mangled, barely breathing corpses. Then he frowned. "Wait, what do you mean 'physically'?"

"Dean is very... anxious" Carl explained. "He's restless, wanting nothing but to see his brother. He has every right, though."

"What, why?"

"Dean got out of this fairly unharmed. If he was a cat he would've lost only one life" Carl smirked fleetingly, before turning serious again. "But his brother, Sam, wasn't as lucky."

"Is he...?" Bobby gulped, unable to say the word. No matter how wary he was of the boy, he never wanted to see him hurt... or worse...

"No, he's being treated right now" Carl laid a comforting hand on the older man's shoulder, gripping it hard enough to keep him focused. Bobby was reminded now why he trusted this kid. "But according to the EMT, Sam had crashed through the windshield and landed several feet away from the car. He has many cuts from the glass and a broken nose from the fall. He even broke his right arm, which possibly means he fell on his right side. Luckily, his ribs are fine, but we're worried more about his spine and neck, and of course his skull. He lost a lot of blood from the head-wounds so he needed a transfusion."

Bobby felt himself hunch over more and more as he listened to the explanation. By the end of it, he felt like someone was clinging onto his back, weighing him down.

"However" Carl emphasized that word, giving the older man's shoulder a firm shake, making him look at him once more, "the EMT also said he had woken up as they were getting ready to put him in the ambulance. He was responsive, despite the slowed reflexes."

Bobby, this time, didn't bother to hide his relief. He wiped at his face, rubbing the tears out of his eyes.

"Can I see them?" he sighed out, feeling his heart pounding with less and less force.

"You would do me a favor" Carl replied with another grin. "Dean is in room 5, just down the hallway. Sam is being taken for an MRI. If you could keep Dean in his room until we can get you two, that would be much appreciated." Bobby nodded, letting a knowing smirk emerge onto his face. Shaking Carl's hand gratefully he took off down the hallway and towards one of his boys.

He just hoped the other will be alright, as well.

* * *

Dean shut his eyes tightly as he fought the sob repeatedly trying to get out of his tight throat. He had his arms crossed and he was biting his nails nervously, blinking against the regathering tears in his eyes. His sprained ankle was resting on a mountain of pillows and the pain had finally ebbed away. But the tightness in his chest and the aching in his mind never ceased to exist.

 _"Just shut up, Sam! It was a shitty thing to do and you know it!"_

 _"I have every right to know about this! How am I supposed to-?"_

 _"Why can't you just let this go?! Don't you get it?! You will DIE! Or even worse!_

 _"Dammit, Dean-"_

 _"No, Sam, I've had enough! I'm not gonna let you kill yourself just because you get a kick out of guilt-tripping all the time! This ends now and I'm not gonna let you-"_

 _"DEAN!"_

Dean flinched with a gasp as the mess of breaking glass and metal once again exploded in his mind. He tightened his hold around himself, feeling broken and vulnerable. He wanted to jump out the window, hoping it was high enough...

Footsteps snapped him out of his thoughts and he turned towards the door, lowering his hand from his mouth. He tensed as he waited for a nurse to appear, telling him he can go to his brother now.

The person appearing brought relief and disappointment all at the same time.

Bobby's wide, worried blue eyes pinned onto Dean's form, just standing in the door and taking in his sight. Dean felt his lips tremble as a familiar face finally gave him some actual comfort just by existing.

"Bobby..." he choked out, finally giving up the battle against the tears. As they rolled down his cheeks, Bobby rushed forward, grabbed his shoulders and pulled. Dean expected a punch or verbal assault...

He got a tight hug, instead.

Jerking from the erupting sobs, Dean grasped the worn vest tightly on Bobby's back, just clinging to him desperately as the man rubbed his shoulders, almost strangling him with his hug. The younger hunter thought he could hear Bobby whispering nonsense into his ear, comforting him with a steady, soft tone. Dean let loose a couple more sobs, wishing for some relief right now in his chest.

After a minute, Bobby pushed him back, leaning him against the pillows, then took a seat on the edge of the bed. Dean wiped at his face, sniffing to calm down and force himself to take a deep breath.

"I'm sorry" he muttered, lifting sorrow-filled green eyes onto the older hunter. Bobby frowned in confusion. "It's my fault... I shouldn't've-"

"It's okay, kid" Bobby interrupted, seeing Dean working himself up again. "We'll talk about this later. And you can rest easier now. Carl said Sam was... well, not fine but hangin' on just fine."

"Carl?" Dean repeated confused.

"A kid I know in here" Bobby smiled. "He allowed me in here to keep you in line."

"Blond doctor with an attitude?" Dean huffed and shook his head as he described the guy man-handling him before.

"With a good attitude" Bobby pointed out. "He doesn't take any nonsense from anybody. And I mean, _**any**_ body."

Dean smirked in disbelief, but he knew Bobby was right. If he hadn't met him, he would think the kid would be a rich snob mama's boy.

"So what'd he say about Sam?" Dean asked quickly, too anxious for more niceties. Bobby sighed wearily.

"It's not good, Dean" he said, shaking his head. "If what Carl and the EMT described is true, your brother has quite a path to go. We can only hope he's relatively unscathed, like you."

"Why?" Dean felt his heartbeat kick up once more. "What's wrong with him? I blacked out on impact, but-"

A knock on the door cut through their conversation. A nurse, a brunette woman in her thirties was gazing in on them, lowering her hand once she had their attention. Dean frowned as she stepped closer.

"I remember you" he finally said just as she stopped by his side. She looked taken aback. "You're... Geena, right?"

"Um... yes" she flushed shyly but smiled. "I'm surprised you remember. You had more important things to worry about."

"Thanks, Geena" Bobby nodded with a grateful smile. "How's Finn?"

"He was still reeling from everything, last time I checked" Geena answered, brown eyes growing sadder. "He's not used to things like this."

"Most of us aren't" Bobby agreed knowingly. Geena nodded then turned to Dean.

"I just came to tell you Sam will be set up in a room in five minutes" she told him, bringing a relieved sigh out of the man. "By the time you get up to 305, he'll be ready for your visit."

"How is he?" Bobby asked.

"He's doing alright" she explained. "The doctors are waiting for the results of the MRI. But his outside wounds are taken care of and his arm was put in a cast. He had a couple cracked ribs, but with some time and bedrest they will heal properly. He had a slight difficulty with his oxygen intake, but some time with an oxygen mask should fix it."

Dean heard enough. He began pushing himself up and grabbed onto Bobby's helping hand, glad they were on the same page. When he got to his feet, he swayed but Geena pushed a pair of crutches towards him. Dean nodded once he was set and the three of them marched out of the room swiftly. Geena led the two men, Bobby had a hand resting on Dean's back.

Once they reached room 305, the elevators fast and mostly empty at this hour - although it still surprised him - Dean froze in his gait. The crash of metal and glass was still ringing in his head and now he was too afraid to face the consequences of his stupidity.

"It's okay" Geena whispered to comfort him. "He's okay."

"Come on, son" Bobby urged him gently, as well. "I know you wanna see him, too."

The two coaxed him through the door and to the bed. They barely got him in sight when Dean almost collapsed again, his face crumbling with regret and grief. Only Bobby's steady hands kept him upright.

Sam was lying on the hospital bed, unconscious and immobile. His right arm was in a cast and resting in his lap as he reclined slightly The right side of his face was full of dark scratches and cuts but only one square of gauze was taped onto his temple. His mouth and nose was covered with a plastic mask and what Dean could see it was hiding what seemed like a swollen nose.

What had him broken, though, was the brace still wrapped around Sam's neck, keeping his head trapped.

"What's wrong with him?" he choked out, gasping against the knot in his throat. Geena glanced over her shoulder and when she turned back, her eyes were filled with sorrow.

"I know it looks scary" she spoke softly, unable to stop herself brushing at Dean's hair. "But the doctors are still looking through his X-rays. They don't want to miss any little fracture in his spine. Until they are certain, they want to keep your brother as immobile as possible, okay?"

Dean glanced at her with wide, tearful green eyes and she nodded encouragingly. Bobby watched his boy closely and when he saw him gathering his feet back under him, he eased his grip. Dean slowly leaned onto the crutches and limped to the side of the bed, his eyes never leaving his little brother's still form. He reached out and let his trembling hand tentatively touch Sam's damp, freshly-washed hair before resting his palm on it. The other two watched the silent moment of acceptance and when Dean caressed Sam's hair gently, they relaxed.

"Dr. Peters will check in on you as soon as possible" Geena added then with a nod of farewell to Bobby she left.

"Dr. Peters?" Dean asked uncertainly. Bobby gulped at the tightness in his own throat as he took in the child-like vulnerability displayed by the older Winchester brother, who would rather die than show weakness.

"Carl" he finally answered as he grabbed a nearby chair and pushed it behind Dean. The older brother turned his eyes back to Sam and brushed some of the hairs out of the younger man's pale forehead. Only then did he sit down. "I'm glad he's takin' care of you two" he noted, taking his own seat on another chair on the other side of the bed. "He's a good kid."

Dean leaned his crutches against the wall then lifted Sam's free hand, grasping it with both of his and leaning his cheek onto the limp fingers. After a few seconds, the hand on top slid down onto Sam's wrist and Dean pressed his lips onto the back of the hand in a comforting kiss. Bobby smiled at the tenderness he was barely privy to, but after what happened this few years, it was refreshing to see the old bond flaring up between the brothers.

And as Dean leaned his cheek back against Sam's hand, Bobby felt everything fall into place and he knew they will be alright.

* * *

Unfocused hazel-green slipped open with effort, lids fluttering as they struggled to obey. The hazy irises moved around taking in the blurry whiteness before pain slowly throbbed its way into their owner's mind. A soft moan slipped out of his mouth and he blinked slowly, trying to wake himself up.

"Sam?"

A voice, a woman he didn't know, spoke above him and he tried to turn his head towards her, to see who the intruder was and to find out where he was being held-

His head didn't wanna move.

Sam gasped in fear as something wedged into his jaw and he yanked his hands up to his neck. Something was holding him down, trying to strangle him-

"Sam, stop!" the woman ordered firmly, grabbing onto his wrists. No... wrist. He couldn't feel the other one.

"No" he moaned out, wriggling around, trying to free himself from his bonds. Cold air brushed at his legs suddenly, making him shiver. "No... De'..."

"Ssh, Sam, calm down" the woman pushed at his chest gently. "You're in the hospital. You're safe now."

Sam's eyes roamed around frantically and now he recognized the white walls and the machines next to his bed. His body stilled as he tried to make sense of what was going on, but the thing around his neck was pressing hard into his jaw. The woman, a brunette, used his moment of distraction and covered his bare legs back up.

"Where 'm I...?" he slurred out, his chest rising up and down frantically as he fought the tight band around his lungs.

"Ssh, you're in Sioux Falls General" she answered, carding her fingers carefully through his hair. Sam winced as her fingers prodded at painful pinpricks on his head. "Do you remember what happened?"

Sam frowned, gazing at her confused.

 _"DEAN!"_

 _Screeching... Crash..._

 _A dull thud echoing in his skull..._

 _Darkness..._

"Dean!" he cried out suddenly, his eyes widening in terror. He tried to scramble out of bed, but the nurse wouldn't let him. "No, my brother... He's hurt! Where...?"

"Calm down, Sam" she ordered him urgently. "Your brother is alright. Just calm down!"

"No, where is he?" he repeated, wanting to shake his head, but it was still tied down. "Let me go... Where is he...?"

"Take deep breaths, Sam-"

"Dean!" he cried out, sobs exploding out of his lungs as he felt tears roll down his cheeks, some of them stinging the right side of his face. "De-ean!"

* * *

Bobby almost slid into the doorway as he rushed after Sam's scream of terror. He had just gone out to get a coffee, but apparently the infamous Winchester timing took place in the two minutes he was gone.

And of course, Dean had to go to the bathroom right then, as well.

Before he could run in and calm Sam down, he caught Dean out of the corner of his eyes, limping hurriedly down the hallway. He must have heard his brother all the way in the other end of the corridor. Bobby hurried up to him, let Dean wrap his arm around his shoulders and pulled the older Winchester along to get him to his brother faster.

Dean's wide eyes pinned onto his brother worriedly and he instantly shoved himself away from Bobby, stumbling to the side of the bed. He threw his crutch down and grasped Sam's flailing, uninjured arm while his other hand slid under the mop of hair, grasping it gently.

"Sammy, stop!" he barked out, leaning over his brother to get into his line of sight. Geena had jumped back the moment they appeared and was now watching the two and the monitors with concern.

Sam gasped for air a couple more times before slouching back against the pillows. His eyes finally found Dean and glistened with more tears.

"De'..." Sam choked out, trying to move closer to his brother, but he already looked exhausted. "Can't move..."

"Move what, kiddo?" Dean asked, worry ratcheting up tenfold.

"M' head... Get it off..."

"Ssh, it's okay" Dean immediately soothed his brother, his hand slowly wading through Sam's long hair. Bobby knew the man was afraid his brother would turn out to be paralyzed. Although, judging by the panicked thrashing around, Bobby never would've counted paralysis as a risk factor... thank God. "The doctors are worried about your neck. So it's in a brace until they give you the A-OK. So you need to stay still, alright?"

"Hurts..." Sam whined out, his body gradually unwinding now.

"I know, kiddo" Dean replied, tears already gathering in his eyes. Sam pulled on his hand, trying to reach the brace.

"Off..."

"Nonono, kiddo" Dean yanked his hand away before damage could be done. "I know it's uncomfortable, but you gotta hold on, okay? Just for a little while."

"De'..." Sam looked mournfully up at his brother. Bobby could see Dean's body tense up and he had a good guess what the younger Winchester wanted to say.

"'M sorry..."

Dean's breath hitched slightly as he gazed into Sam's eyes. So many emotions, so many words passed between the two gazes, Bobby couldn't name most of them. But Dean, instead of brushing it all off like usual, let the weight of the night's events crash him to the ground: he grabbed the back of Sam's head and leaned his forehead against the younger brother's unmarred temple, muffling his sobs into the brown tresses. Sam lifted his arms and gripped Dean's shirt, even the fingers poking out of the cast managed to curl around the fabric.

"I'm so sorry, Sammy" Dean sobbed out, his voice wrecked and weak. "I'm so sorry..."

* * *

"So what happened?"

Bobby was now back to sitting by Sam's side, the kid asleep but his free hand holding his brother's tightly. Dean, who was monotonously stroking Sam's hair, froze up and glanced sadly at the older man. Bobby could see he wasn't keen on answering, which was proven by what he said next:

"What's taking them so long? This thing looks uncomfortable."

Bobby only spared a glance towards the neck-brace still around Sam's neck. Never mind that it was just thirty minutes since Sam woke up and ten minutes since he fell back asleep.

"So" he hazarded, trying for blunt to shove him out of his reluctance, "you were drunk I guess. You totaled your precious baby because you were a careless stupid idiot."

He knew this wasn't true, but at least Dean's green eyes flared with the fire of anger instead dimming with murky lethargy.

"I would never do that" Dean growled out, his voice hiding the hurt Bobby knew he caused. "I would never risk Sam like that."

The two glared at each other, waiting for one to relent. Thankfully, it was Dean.

"What do you want me to say? That I fucked up? There: I fucked up. Happy?"

"Ecstatic" Bobby snarled sarcastically, making the boy flinch. "I want to know what happened that would make you crash a car you were driving and taking care of since you were twelve."

For a minute it seemed Dean still wouldn't answer, but then he broke:

"We were arguing."

Bobby sighed. These boys will be the death of him.

"About what?" he held his voice back from being harsh with concerned anger. Usually these two managed to quell their shouting matches in the car before they got dangerous. He wanted to know what was the difference now.

"Sam tricked Cas into revealing everything" Dean replied, morose as he remembered back. Bobby blinked in surprise.

"I already know that."

"Yeah..."

Bobby frowned then finally got it. He shook his head in disbelief.

"Didn't you already have it out with him?"

"Yeah..."

Dean's voice was smaller now, replacing fury with guilt and shame.

"Then why the hell did you bring it up?"

"I don't know" Dean shrugged, avoiding Bobby's gaze. "It didn't even start out like that. I... I don't even remember what we were trying to talk about. And that wasn't the point, anyway..."

 _"Sammy, I told you to leave it alone. It's dangerous, don't you get it?"_

 _"And I told you that I can't let it go, Dean! The things I've done are worse, far worse than the demon blood! I'm already tainted and now I have this on my hands! And I'm just supposed to sit by and pretend nothing happened?"_

 _"YES!"_

 _"Well, I can't!"_

 _"Too bad, Sam, because I'm not risking you again!"_

 _"Why did you even do it? Even Cas said-"_

 _"Don't you dare bring him up! You risked your own life, your sanity to atone for something you didn't do! You used him to your own selfish idiocy!"_

 _"At least he didn't want to keep it a secret! He was honest with me!"_

 _"Just shut up, Sam! It was a shitty thing to do and you know it!"_

 _"I have every right to know about this! How am I supposed to-?"_

 _"Why can't you just let this go?! Don't you get it?! You will DIE! Or even worse!_

 _"Dammit, Dean-"_

 _"No, Sam, I've had enough! I'm not gonna let you kill yourself just because you get a kick out of guilt-tripping all the time! This ends now and I'm not gonna let you-"_

 _"DEAN!"_

"I don't know what happened" Dean choked out, not even bothering to fight his tears. "He just jumped at me, yanked on the wheel... Next thing I know I wake up in the car, my leg stuck and everything hurts..."

"Dean-"

"I didn't watch the road because I was busy tearing him a new one" Dean continued relentlessly. "I just want him safe... And I almost killed him..."

"Deer..."

Sam's slurred voice cut in so out of the blue, the two hunters almost fell out of their seats. Dean quickly leaned close and shushed his little brother, resuming the strokes on his head. Under half-open, paper-thin lids, dazed hazel-green eyes slid onto his brother. His grip tightened tremulously around Dean's hand.

"Drifted over..." Sam mumbled breathlessly. "Almost hit... a deer..."

"Ssh, Sammy, it's okay" Dean soothed him in a broken voice as he realized the impact of what Sam was saying. "'M sorry, I should've been careful."

"Me, too..." Sam winced as he swallowed. His throat must be dry as hell by now, but he soldiered on. "Should've waited... In the motel... we could've wrestled... it out..."

"Of course" Bobby chimed in half-irritated, half-joking. "Cause why use that goddamn hole under your noses? It's not like they always flap about letting out whining and constant bitching."

Dean glared at the older man, but the corners of his mouth twitched, fighting a smirk. Sam, however, just grinned tiredly.

A knock on the door broke up their conversation. Dr. Peters was standing in the doorway with a smile on his face.

"Hope I'm not interrupting anything" he offered politely as he stepped in.

"You? Never" Dean replied with the first genuine smile that night. "Unless it's bad news."

"Then good thing I don't have those" the doctor responded brightly. "I'm here to take that brace off. I don't know how, but you two are probably the luckiest people in this hospital tonight. Sam only has a concussion, cuts and bruises, two cracked ribs and a broken arm and nose. Although, I would like to keep you under observation for the head wounds, but there's no reason not to let you go home after 24 hours. We will do another scan of your head, and if all is fine, you're good to go."

Sam relaxed fully into the mattress, squeezing his brother's hand reassuringly.

"Thank you, Carl" Bobby said gratefully, which was reflected in Dean's eyes.

"Yeah, thanks" Dean added, nodding enthusiastically. "We owe you one."

"I'm just doing my job" Dr. Peters lifted a hand to dismiss Dean's claim.

"If you ever need anything" Bobby offered, "you know my number." Carl just nodded then stepped to Sam's side and did quick work of removing the brace. Sam tilted his head to the sides, enjoying the long-awaited freedom.

"Take care, guys" the doctor said in parting and carried the brace out of the room. Sam slouched down and turned onto his side, facing Dean. He pulled his brother's hand in front of his face and slid his injured one over it, keeping it captured in his hold. Dean reached up and stroked Sam's hair gently, careful about the bumps under the tresses he could still feel. Soon, his brother's face slackened in sleep, lips parting to help his breathing, since his nose was broken.

Bobby leaned back in his chair and lifted his feet onto the bed. He pulled his hat into his eyes, deciding to take a nap. He knew Dean would be awake and alert taking care of his brother until Bobby ordered him to get some rest.

Dean slid his arm onto Sam's pillow, keeping it around his little brother's head. His fingers tentatively brushed at the scratches on Sam's face then they slid down his cheek and his index finger rubbed at the red marks left behind by the brace. Sam took a deep breath without waking, nuzzling Dean's trapped hand slightly as he shifted.

Dean watched his brother sleep, immensely relieved they got away with practically just minor scratches. Compared to what they had gone through, not just topside but downstairs, as well, this was a simple cough in a doctor's office. Dean traced the back of his finger down the slope of Sam's neck, paler then his jawline or shoulder, where the red lines gave the border of the brace. He sent a prayer of thanks up to any deity that was listening for protecting his brother. He just couldn't fathom how they got away with this! It was like a Get Out Of Jail Free card...

He shivered as he remembered the Impala's current condition. It's gonna be a bitch to repair it, but he hoped Bobby could help him with that. It confused him how everything ended so smoothly, yet the car was totaled. They should be dead by now, Sam with a broke neck... It felt strange how the car had more damage than them... As if...

Dean shook his head dismissively. He loved his baby, but that would be even weirder for them. Although, he would make sure she got the best treatment possible, no matter how long it'll take.

Until then, Sam can rest up, maybe even get this ridiculous guilt trip out of his head... _'Yeah, fat chance'_ he huffed in defeat. But that didn't mean he wouldn't try to talk some sense into his brother.

Letting out a yawn, he squeezed his eyes shut. He intended to stay up and look out for his brother throughout the night. It was still his job, after all, and he wouldn't trade it for anything, even if it gets a little demanding and arduous at times. Because there was no better feeling in the world for him than knowing Sam was alright and alive and happy - as happy as anyone can be in their situation.

He will deny later to Bobby that he fell asleep, but the older man would always remember waking up in the morning and finding the older Winchester, with his cheek resting on Sam's head, his free hand lying protectively on the younger man's neck.

Only his phone remained witness to the pull between the brothers manifesting.

 _The End_

* * *

 **And as soon as Sammy is healed, they roll right into Episode 13. :D  
**

 **So, how was it? I hope you liked it. I'm quite proud of myself.**

 **I never watched doctor shows in my life, but my Dad used to watch ER. However, I thought putting that in was a little on the nose... since Jared plays Sam... I dunno... So I chose Grey's Anatomy, instead.**

 **Anyway, see you at the next one tomorrow (because it's already written, but *Ssh* :D)!**


	5. Chapter 5 For Hannah Rivera

**ULTIMATE DISCLAIMER: Every content, character, plot etc. that anyone is able to recognize as other's property is NOT mine. I have no intention to get into any trouble involving law and money.**

 **Hey, guys!**

 **Next one:  
**

 **Prompt: _"Sam and dean are on a hunt and Sam gets pulled or falls into the water and drowned dean saves him and mabe some a CPR scene but it's all ok in the end"_ by Hannah Rivera.  
**

 **Set: Season 1, between episode 11 (Scarecrow) and 16 (Shadow).  
**

 **Warnings: MentallyTormented!Sam, Mothering!Panicked!Dean, ANGST! I don't know why it took off with me. As soon as I read up on the monster the boys set out to hunt, it ran away with me... I hope you'll like it still!  
**

 **TRIGGER WARNING! Depressing thoughts that could border on suicidal! They're not real, but still there, so BE CAUTIOUS! _  
_**

 **The spell in the story is my poor attempt at translating an already existing spirit banishing spell into Latin. If you Google these spells and find one that starts with " _Ashes to ashes, dust to dust..."_ you'll most likely find it. And the ritual - if that counts as one - is made up by me.**

 **It still counts as a happy ending - for me, at least -, but there's a really big allusion to Season 2. You'll know when you get there. ;D**

 **Alright, preparations over, let's enjoy the story!  
**

 _P.S.: The italics in this story most definitely SUPPOSED to be written like that. Just in case it gets confusing..._

* * *

 ** _Drowning In Dark Depths_**

The gunshot echoed through the forest from far away, bouncing off of the dark tree trunks. The small amount of moonlight shining down couldn't break through the foliage, except for one circle: a glittering, round lake. Its silvery glow was unbroken, not even a ripple of life disturbing the smooth surface. It was probably the only light source in the forest for miles.

Many feet above, a pair of wide hazel-green eyes watched the serene sight, terror running wildly amok in them. A small breeze brushed at chestnut-brown bangs, shifting them to the side from where they lay on a sweat-damp forehead. A shiver rushed through the owner of that frightened gaze, accompanied by a soft whimper escaping through the thin, trembling lips. Long, slender fingers hung lifelessly by the figure's sides, limp and shaky. A grimace contorted handsome features and one hand twitched, but otherwise nothing happened. It was as if the figure had turned into a statue...

A speck of dirt crumbled and fell from the edge and landed right in the deep end of the lake, creating the only ripple in the water. It was a long drop from the outcropping that reached above the lake. Some might say even deadly, if you don't have enough endurance or are too reckless.

And Sam Winchester, still rusty from the long break from hunting after being tucked away for so long at Stanford, was forced to face that fact... and his own probable demise.

* * *

"So, a black dog."

Sam glanced up from the papers he'd been perusing for the last few minutes. He and Dean had been discussing their current case and the information they got from the witnesses. His brother was now pacing up and down, thumbing through the pages of John's journal. The sight of that book punched Sam in the gut every time, knowing their father was out there, in danger and with no way to reach him. He just ignored the feeling of helplessness the journal always roused in him and the guilt of being away for so long from his family.

"All signs point to it" he replied, clearing his throat to get his voice under control. Dean was worried enough already about their Dad, he didn't need any mess from his little brother.

"So how do we get rid of it?" Dean asked, brow furrowing as he scanned a page more thoroughly before moving on.

"I don't think the dog itself is killing these people" Sam argued, but he already ducked his head for a chewing out he _knew_ was coming.

Except it wasn't.

"Yeah..."

Sam snapped his gaze back to his brother. Dean was looking at him deep in thought, but Sam had a hard time deciding whether the man was watching him or staring through him into nothingness.

"I think you're right."

Sam's eyebrows disappeared under his bangs at that.

"I am?" He couldn't help but ask. Dean walked to the table and put the journal onto it. Sam could see a quick sketch of a black beast next to a long paragraph of John's writing.

"It says here that they're creepy but mostly harmless and usually predict someone's death. Not all of them are like that, but seeing how everyone died naturally or in an accident gives proof of this one being innocent" Dean explained, his features showing no lie, no tricks, no teasing. Sam felt weirded out by this and had the urge to mutter 'Christo' under his breath. "It's just... there was so much death in such a short time span..."

"Well" Sam spoke cautiously. He tried to stay on Dean's good side, so rudely interrupting his thought process wouldn't help him. The older brother turned his attention to him, listening. "We could banish it, forcing it to change locations or just... ease up on the death-omen thing for a while."

"Would this kill it?"

"No, just... inconvenience it for some time."

"Good" Dean nodded. Since when did Dean advocate _"ask questions first, shoot later"_? That was Sam's shtick. "What do we need?"

* * *

Turns out, hunting a black dog was easier than anyone would've thought. The brothers drove to the forest outside of Dahlonega, Georgia where the sightings of the black dog had occurred. It was a good thing Sam insisted on being thorough during the questioning, because Georgia was filled with forests, which meant that Dahlonega was surrounded by trees.

Sam waited until Dean checked then double-checked the Impala, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at his brother's babying of a hunk of metal. It was home to both of them, but this idolizing was getting ridiculous.

He shouldered the backpack that was filled with the ingredients to the spell to banish the black dog. Dean got his shotgun out, loaded with rock salt. He had volunteered for guard duty while Sam performed the spell. They wandered through the trees, just far enough that the road and the town was not visible anymore. Sam looked around and found a smaller spot devoid of grass. He knelt down next to it and unzipped the back pack. He took out a bronze plate and placed it on the bare ground.

He could feel Dean's presence walking around him in a wider circle, checking their surroundings for any threat. Sam smiled faintly, feeling protected as always. He pulled a glass jar of powdered rosemary then sage, which he poured some of onto the plate. Stirring it with a finger, he sprinkled the small heap with one leaf of basil that he ripped to small pieces. As Dean walked back behind him, cocking his shotgun, Sam got three thick candles out, as well. He placed them standing on the flatter parts of the ground, surrounding the plate in a triangle. He got a matchbox out and as he dug one match out, he began chanting the spell he had quickly memorized:

" _Cinis ad cinerem, pulvis ad pulverem."_

He lit the match, the strike echoing in the silent forest, and held it to the candles, lighting them up counterclockwise, starting from the top. He let the serenity of the foreign tongue wash over him, knowing he needed a clear head for rituals and spells to work.

" _Sit ventus flare vos, phantasma vulgivagus..."_

A small breeze fluttered the candle light, bathing his features in flickering bronze. The powder seemed to stir on the plate but it was never pushed past the rim. Sam was still amazed when the spells they used affected nature, the call for help being answered with small signs like this.

" _Et purgaras ex mundo viventium,_

 _Divertas vos ad-"_

The air in his lungs halted as his voice broke off abruptly. He froze, the match still burning after the third candle was lured to life. His body grew more and more tense as something engulfed his hunched form. He tore his gaze away from the candles and averted it forward. He could faintly hear the small _whoosh!_ of Dean's shotgun lifting to aim.

A big, slender, dark canine was standing in front of them, maybe a feet away.

Sam gulped as the glowing golden eyes bore into him, the gaze calm and almost calculating. The black dog was completely unfazed by two mortals staring it down, trying to get rid of it. It didn't move to attack, it didn't cower in fear, it just... stared. Unblinking. Unmoving. Calm.

Knowing.

Sam's eyes widened as a rush of tremor washed over his body. The dog kept its gaze fixed on his, completely ignoring his brother. It watched him, taking him in, almost... sizing him up. Sam felt vulnerable, exposed under the spotlight of its stare. His breath hitched as he tried to break away, but it kept him captivated, entranced...

"Sammy" Dean spoke softly, but his tone was hard with tension. "Keep going."

Sam opened his mouth, wanting to continue, but something... The dog was just staring at him, it wouldn't look away as if it could see inside him, read him like a book...

Again: _knowing._

"Sammy!" Dean's voice sounded like the explosion of a cannon in the tense silence. Sam jerked and blinked, freeing himself from the snare of that gaze. He opened his mouth and continued as if he had never stopped:

" _-quo te pertinent"_

This time keeping his eyes lowered and on the plate, he moved the still burning match above the powder. He could faintly hear soft steps rustling the grass ahead of him then the crunch of a branch. He glanced up for a fraction and he thought he could see the black dog closer and sitting right in front of him. He didn't let it distract him as he finished the spell:

" _Et licet vos evanescet sine vestigii."_

He threw the match onto the powder which flashed with flames and energy. Sam glanced up at the dog, which was still staring at him intently, but its outline was beginning to blur. The younger Winchester shivered once more as that golden gaze bore into his eyes, his brain, his soul. Cold unlike any other engulfed his heart, spreading onto his insides, not letting up even as the dog's body began dissipating like smoke blown away by a breeze.

The last thing he saw of it was its lit eyes, watching him knowingly, not letting up the... not promise, but warning.

He was going to die.

* * *

The occasional chirp of a cricket wasn't enough to distract Sam from the lake below him. He let out another whimper as the silvery glow seemed to blind him. He wanted to look away, his head beginning to ache from the sight, and the world seemed to sway a little in his mind...

The only solidity was the smooth surface of the clear, peaceful lake.

Sam gasped as, for the hundredth time, the height of the outcrop registered in his mind. If he fell, there's a big chance he won't make it. He wasn't as physically strong as Dean, he had been slacking off for four years, only catching up to himself since he got back into hunting... He can't fall off the ledge, not now, not when things were starting to settle down between him and his brother...

But he couldn't tear his eyes away... It was calling...

To him...

* * *

"You okay?"

Sam jumped at Dean's terse voice and began cleaning up. The powder had already burned away, so he dumped the ashes onto the ground. He blew out the candles and put everything back into the backpack then jumped up to leave this place, but Dean's sudden firm grip stopped him.

"Hey" the older man pried gently, concern creasing his brow as jade green eyes roamed over Sam's face. "You okay?"

Sam sighed but hardened his features, not wanting to worry his brother anymore. He was already doing a crap job of that, no need to give fuel to the fire.

"'M fine. Let's go!"

Dean held him in place for another second then, with a nod, let him go. They began walking back towards the Impala, ready to blow this joint and put it into the rear-view mirror.

Out of nowhere, an inhuman screech reached their ears, making them halt and spin around instantly. Dean had his shotgun raised and ready to fire, while Sam yanked his pistol out from the waistband of his jeans, cocking it during the fluid motion. At least, that reflex was still alert inside him.

They stayed quiet for a minute, waiting for another sign of a monster, either to show them the right direction or to appear before them. Sam's ears began ringing from the deafening silence as they strained to pick up any out of place sounds around them. Even the crickets seemed to have been scared mute from whatever was out there. He could feel Dean's body practically vibrate against his outstretched arm, eager and prepared for a fight.

Suddenly, a loud rustle and crash erupted above them. They only had time to look up before something large descended onto them, its body landing mostly on Dean and shoving Sam backwards. The younger man quickly got to his feet, gun immediately lifting up to fire. He flinched as Dean let out a painful yelp then the large body lifted up in the air, clumsily dragging the older Winchester with it, another loud rustle sending a wave of wind at Sam.

It was a harpy.

Sam couldn't understand why this creature was out here alone, although judging by the dazed, bloodshot eyes just illuminated by the moon, it must have been lost and sickly, maybe even on its final days.

But it was still strong enough to drag a victim, namely Dean, away for a late dinner.

Sam aimed and pulled the trigger. He would've got the harpy, but since Dean was struggling to free himself, as well, and the harpy was a moving target, the bullet missed its heart and bounced off of a wing. It let out a scared screech and let Dean's arm go. The hunter dropped gracelessly to the ground with a grunt. Sam quickly hurried to his side as the harpy flew away with another frightened shriek.

"Come on" Sam helped his brother to his feet, quickly checking him over. Other than the torn sleeve of Dean's jacket - not the leather one, thank God - and some dirt, the man was fine. "You okay?"

"Yeah" Dean gasped out, grasping Sam's shoulder for support for a minute. Once he got his breath back, he straightened up and his face grew more stern. "Let's get this bitch!"

Sam nodded in agreement. He had his own heart attack when the harpy grabbed Dean, so who knows when it will strike on someone innocent next?

"Do we have anything with us?" he asked, smoothly switching back into hunting mode.

"The car's not far from here" Dean replied, already rushing towards the edge of the forest. "There should be some fuel and knives in the trunk."

Changing their gear took less than five minutes, the brothers moving as smoothly and efficiently as the gears of a well-oiled machine, and soon they were treading through the trees once more, armed with knives and pistols, one smaller can of lighter fluid in each of their bags.

"Did you see where it went?"

Sam was startled by his brother's question. It should've been expected since they stumbled upon a hunt where tracking was needed, but he was caught off-guard - and left guilty.

"Not exactly" he admitted reluctantly. Lying right now was too risky. "I think it went deeper into the forest." Dean glanced at his brother, who just couldn't make out the emotions flashing through his eyes, but he could guess one of them was annoyance.

"Alright" Dean spoke, his voice not showing any disappointment. "Let's split up, maybe we'll find it faster."

"You sure it's a good idea?" Sam couldn't help but ask. When he received a smirk in return, his heart eased up a little.

"Well, we have a better chance at survival than tweens these days."

Sam snickered in response then with a nod the brothers departed. The younger man dismissed the cool dread forming in his gut with a deep relaxing sigh.

* * *

Long, long silent minutes passed, stretching into an hour. Sam was wading through the forest, gun raised next to his head, ready to aim at anything coming his way. He hadn't heard any screeches or rustles that indicated the harpy, so he spent some of his mind's capacity to pray for Dean's safety. There was a big chance his brother had headed in the right direction.

Sam stopped for a second, as he had done so far every few minutes, doing nothing but listening. He even closed his eyes to avert his attention to his hearing. The breeze occasionally still blowing around him rustled the leaves of the trees and bushes, sometimes picking up a few dry ones and sliding them a few inches from their resting places. He could hear something thin and constant in the background, but that just helped him focus on more out of place noises that could occur. He chalked it up to the tension of the silence surrounding him since he had been picking up on it for a while now.

 _"Sam..."_

Sam jumped at the faint voice coming from thin air. His eyes slammed open and roamed frantically around him, but he could see no one hiding among the trees. That voice... It came from his right and... sounded so much like Dean...

Cautious as ever, Sam took a couple soft steps towards the source of the voice. There was a chance that Dean had shouted for him from a distance, but ever since the shapeshifter case in St. Louis, he didn't trust sudden appearances of his brother until he made sure it _was_ actually Dean.

Sooner than he expected, he broke through the treeline...

And halted at the shore of a lake.

The water was smooth and bathed in the glow of even the faintest moonlight. The forest was silent around it, the chirps of crickets emanating from deeper in the darkness, giving a soft background noise. On a good day - or night - it would've been a perfect resting place, just to kick back and watch the stars, sipping a bottle of beer or even a glass of wine...

Sam shook his head, dismissing the want for some peace these days. Everything had been so hectic for the last few months, he just wanted a few minutes to stop and enjoy living. But that had to wait now. He needed to find his brother and/or the harpy before it was too late-

 _"Sammy..."_

Sam startled again. Dean's voice seemed to come from across the lake. He lifted his gaze to the treeline in the distance, narrowing his eyes as he tried to make out any movement or shape from this far away. As he stared ahead, he had to catch himself multiple times, because his eyes kept averting from the trees and onto the lake. The scenery was so serene and beautiful... He longed to experience this peace, even before he left for Stanford...

Sam winced as his eyes began burning. He had been staring at the water and even forgot to blink. His breathing picked up as his insides tensed, sending warning signals to his brain. The thin, high-pitched ringing he had heard from earlier seemed to grow stronger and soon he couldn't find the strength to yank his gaze away from the lake.

 _'No...'_

He gasped as his body froze, reacting to his own commands slower and slower. He frantically willed his limbs to move, his legs to shift backwards and away from the scene. He managed two or three shuffling steps back, but every single one ratcheted the ringing in his ear up tenfold. Another, this time painful, gasp erupted from his lungs and he could just feel his gun tumbling out of his hand and onto the ground. He hunched over in pain, eyes still stuck on the lake, and his backpack landed hard on the soft grass. Sam swayed in his spot as the ringing increased into a cacophony of sounds, and one of his still obeying instincts kicked in: he lifted his hands to his ears to stop it.

It was futile.

Sam collapsed onto his knees, clawing at his head and yanking on his hair, as if he was trying to physically tear the sounds out of his brain. He yelped with another tortured gasp and could almost feel something heavy settle onto his body, surrounding him, engulfing him, capturing him in its clutches...

And he still couldn't tear his eyes away from the water.

"Stop..." he whimpered, but he could barely hear his own voice through the jumble of sounds in his mind. They were still growing louder, deafening every one of his senses, but now he could distinguish them: voices.

 _"It was your fault-"_

 _"You walk out that door-"_

 _"Sam... I'm sorry..."_

 _"-call my son Dean-"_

 _"Mom never would've wanted-"_

 _"You killed her-"_

"No, stop" Sam sobbed out, feeling his nails digging into his scalp through the growing heavy haze settling onto his mind. But his plea went unanswered.

 _"Dad was disappointed in you? ... Always has been..."_

 _"-called being a good son!"_

 _"Where the hell were you?"_

 _"-rather abandon your own mother for school-'_

 _"You're a selfish bastard-"_

"Please" Sam felt liquid trickle down his cheeks as he fought to stay afloat his wayward mind. The lake in front of him was swaying, the trees dancing, their branches pointing at him accusatory and taunting-

"Dean, no-"

 _"-left me with your sorry ass."_

 _"- you betrayed your own family!"_

 _"-don't think I had dreams of my own?"_

 _"Is that an order?"_

"Nonono" Sam tried to stop his mind but something sharp and painful tugged hard on that memory. He could feel something warm trickle down the side of his head as the memory was yanked to the surface, throwing his words at him, accusing, jumbled, but still hitting hard:

 _"Are you that desperate for his approval?"_

 _"I have a mind of my own-"_

 _"I'm sick of doing what you tell me-"_

 _"-tired of taking your orders."_

 _"-like a good little soldier?"_

"Didn't mean to... didn't mean it..." Sam gasped out as everything around him began growing hazy. His fingers slackened, pulling at his hair with tiny pinpricks. At the same time, as his surroundings dimmed, he could see his own enraged features materializing in front of him. He saw his own mouth open:

 _"-just shut your mouth."_

His own features morphed into Dean's bloodied and pained one, who began speaking, as well:

 _"Pull the trigger."_

Sam whined weakly, trying to fight still, but the weight on him was still increasing, melting into his shivering body, as if it was trying to take his place, to force him out-

 _"-not pathetic, like you."_

"No, please..."

 _"-you gonna kill me?"_

"Dean, help..."

 _"-shut your mouth."_

 _"Pull the trigger."_

 _"Is that an order?_

 _"Do it!"_

 _BANG!_

And just like that, everything disappeared in a snip of an ethereal pair of scissors, shoving Sam into darkness.

* * *

 _..._

 _..._

 _Wh... Where am I?_

 _..._

 _I... I-I can't... see... Dark..._

 _..._

 _Should I... panic?_

 _I'm pretty sure I... should see... My eyes are open... aren't they?_

 _..._

 _Something... something's wrong... Should I worry?_

 _I'm sure this is not right..._

 _..._

 _What is going on? How did I get here?_

 _Wait..._

 _..._

 _Wait..._

 _..._

 _Was I... was I on a hunt?_

 _The spell... Cinis ad cinerem... Why do I know that?_

 _A hunt... Simple... Then..._

 _..._

 _No..._

 _..._

 _No... NO..._

 _DEAN!_

Sam jolted with a loud gasp, the black depths of his mind vanishing in an instant, almost blinding him with reality. He needed a few seconds to realize where he was. And when he did...

He wanted to scream in terror.

He was standing on the outcropping above the lake, his eyes still drawn to its smooth surface, ensnaring him, even his pores, his thoughts, his _soul..._

 _'Jump...'_

Sam whimpered, gasping for air frantically. He couldn't move, he had to free himself before the harpy kills Dean! _'I can't let him die!'_ he thought desperately, trying to convince his body to move, to leave, to find his brother. _'He's in danger and if I can't find him, he'll die and I would never survive that-'_

 _'He'll be fine...'_

Sam jolted again. Those words... His own voice said those words in his mind... But he can't be sure, Dean surely needs him, _'we're partners and partners have each other's backs-'_

 _'He doesn't need me... Not now, not ever...'_

 _'No... No, he asked for my help in Stanford, he needs my help, I-'_

 _'I'm just a nuisance...'_

Sam sobbed as his own voice slammed that into his face so harshly. He wanted to shake his head, but his body was still frozen, captured by some unnatural force.

 _'No, I'm not'_ he argued, trying to fight the foreign thoughts invading his mind... No, not foreign... _'No, this isn't me, I'm-'_

 _'I'm useless...'_

 _'NO! No, he needs me to find Dad-_

 _'He doesn't want to be found...'_

 _'Nonono, he needs our help with the demon that killed Mom-_

 _'-who died because of me-'_

"Stop..." Sam forced out, but tears gathered once again in his eyes as the doubts he tried to bury deep inside him had been unearthed and laid bare in the dirt.

 _'I... I need to help Dean...'_

 _'I'm just holding him back...'_

 _'No, he-_

 _'-would be better off without me. I just cause trouble for him. He worries enough for Dad, I just weigh him down-'_

 _'No, that's not true-'_

 _'But I can help Dean one last time...'_

That thought made the air in Sam's lungs halt and his eyes widened. He felt his feet shuffle an inch forward against his will...

His toes were now hanging over the edge...

"No, don't..." he protested weakly, his voice getting lost again as his gaze fixated fully onto the surface of the lake.

 _'He'll get over it fast... He won't even mourn me... And he won't be distracted by my whining, leaving him more focused on important things instead of wasting his strength on me...'_

"Dean, no..." Sam fought weakly, more and more sobs tumbling out of him as the world grew dim once more. "Don't leave me, please..."

 _'He wouldn't... abandon me like that...'_ His own thoughts grew weaker, more feeble... Or was he just in denial?

 _'But this way he won't have to worry over me...'_

 _'But I won't be with him...'_

 _'At least I'll be safe... That's what Dean is always worrying about... My safety... And I can give it to him easily...'_

"No, I don't want to-" Sam tried to stop himself, but he could feel his own body tilting for ward. His weight slowly shifted off his heels and onto his toes... His toes that hung above a long drop, with no ground under them...

 _'I'll be safe... That's what matters... And Dean will forget me... Dad already did... They will move on and things will be better...'_

Sam drew in frantic gasps as the hands of gravity slid over his body, ready to embrace him. He didn't want to do it, he wanted Dean-

"Sammy!"

 _'And I'll be safe...'_

"Sammy, NO!"

Then his body moved past the point of no return... and plummeted.

The forest reverberated his long, terrified scream as his ears filled with the rush of air...

And the only reply that could break through it came from above him:

"SAAM!"

* * *

Dean collapsed onto the ground, his head and shoulders peeking over the edge of the outcropping. His vision grew hazy as he watched his brother's body fall towards the water, helpless to the force pulling him faster and faster downwards. He knew Sam would land head first into the lake...

He had just found this place when he had started to follow a well-worn path through the trees. He had already killed the harpy, torching its body and nest. Sam had apparently wounded it with his missed bullet, so he had to thank the kid for his coincidental help.

He had been calling for his brother for a while when he had found the path and had been sure this had been the road the black dog had occupied before being banished. He had shuddered at the image of the canine as it had stared at Sam so intently. Dean had also felt the dread curling into him at that moment.

And when he had found Sam standing at the end of the path, too still for his liking, that dread had increased into panic.

And now he could only watch as his little brother plummeted towards his fate... And judging by the whimpers and sobs that led to his fall, he wasn't going willingly.

He always knew Sam wouldn't just give up, but... the sight of Sam tilting into a long fall will be burned into his brain forever.

And his scream would haunt him till the day he died.

* * *

The collision with the water was deafening and hard. Sam almost lost his lungful of air he managed to gather from the force of the impact, spreading the ache of it through his whole body. His brain instantly jolted back to life as the cold seeped into his pores, and Sam found himself free from the snare of his unnatural stupor. For a brief second, he flailed around frantically, unable to find where the surface could be, but then he relaxed, hoping the water would lift him towards the right direction.

Soon, he felt the pressure brushing down his back and towards his sides as he was pushed upwards by the laws of physics. As soon as he was sure of his orientation, he shifted into a vertical line then lifted his head up. He could see the moonlight waving above him, bright and inviting. He kicked out, reaching towards it to propel himself upwards faster.

Thin, cold fingers dug into the hem of his shirt, yanking him back down with inhuman strength.

Sam whimpered, careful not to lose his air, and tried to kick his assailant away, but he felt his body sink.

Then a cold, slimy grip closed around his neck.

Sam wriggled, reaching up to pry the hand off, but another arm slid around his torso, locking him into a stiff embrace against a frail, skeletal body. He struggled even more, groaning with effort, his legs kicking out fiercely as he tried to get free, but a pair of long, thin legs surrounded him, propelling them both backwards.

 _'No! Dean, help!'_

Sam continued struggling, trying to hit the body behind him, making it lose its grip on him, but he might as well try to kick a marble statue, underwater at that. His lungs began burning more and more as he used up his energy for his fight, but the thing holding him didn't seem that bothered by his movements. His heart was pounding louder and louder in his ears as the moonlight dimmed above him, slipping away and taking his freedom with it.

Suddenly, the grips around him shifted then he was shoved against something hard. He still somehow managed to keep his dwindling oxygen in his lungs, but before he could swim away, the hand slammed into his chest pushing him down. Sam blinked as he fought to make out the dark shadow appearing above him.

It was a thin, frail woman, skin green and slimy, eyes covered with a film, hair disheveled and floating like a filthy glory around her head. It had sunken cheeks and algae covered her skin. Sam couldn't see any gills and he knew the woman had legs, so one option was out. It wasn't a ghost that had drowned in the lake because she had a corporeal form to the touch, but seemed to shimmer in the water.

It must be a water wraith.

The wraith grinned at Sam, teeth covered in green, fangs longer to help feeding. Its free hand lifted to Sam's head and waded through his hair.

 _'Took me long enough to do this...'_

Sam immediately recognized his own voice in his head, yet it was different. Dejected, lifeless... If it weren't for his own doubts, he would've known something was wrong from that alone. He began struggling again, trying to shove himself up - now he knew he was lying on the bottom of the lake.

The wraith hissed angrily into his face, trying to keep him down, but Sam fought harder. He knew he had maybe seconds to reach the surface for air-

Pain, dulled by ice-cold water, slammed into his chest. It came so out of the blue that it managed to startle the air out of his lungs. Sam quickly forced his mouth shut to keep some back, but his ears quickly filled with a long, unbroken ringing. This time it was lack of oxygen.

Through a blurring vision, he saw the wraith lift a fist up ready to strike again. Sam managed to yank his knife out of its casing on his belt, and tried to swing up, but he was already growing weaker. The wraith had no problem interrupting his move and pressure tightened around his wrist until the knife fell through limp fingers and onto the lake bed.

And then the fist slammed into his chest again.

This time, all the remaining air tumbled out of his mouth in large bubbles, rapidly overtaken by freezing, murky water rushing into his lungs, chilling his throat and airways painfully. Sam felt his body grow heavier by the second and his chest tried to expand, grasping for oxygen too out of its reach and only getting more water for its efforts. Sam could feel the cold slowly engulfing his insides and his body began convulsing as he fought to get air from _anywhere-!_

He vaguely felt fingers carding through his hair as his senses dulled. His body settled heavily onto the smooth, icy bed of the lake, weed softly brushing against his cooling skin. His eyelids grew heavier and heavier as the wraith leaned down and nuzzled his cheek and ear.

 _'I'm finally safe...'_

His voice... From two places... His mind... And his ear...

Light... Light above... Growing brighter... Everything fading...

 _Warm... soothing... white..._

 _A petite form... A warm smile..._

 _Nothing else..._

* * *

The smooth surface of the water was disturbed once more as something heavy slammed into it. Dean sped towards the point where Sam's body hit the lake, swimming deeper and deeper until he needed air. When he emerged he took a large breath, gasping for air steadily before diving again. He would never give up on his brother. Sam would never go willingly... Would never back out into his own death...

He needed to find him before it's too late.

He emerged once more, determination growing with every minute spent underwater. He won't let his brother down again. Not after they had just fallen back into their own strides together...

On his fourth dive, he thought he heard something, muffled by the water. He quickly resurfaced and yanked his silver knife out. If his suspicion was correct, he won't need anything else. Taking a deep breath, he readied himself to sink.

A hand yanked on his leg, pulling him abruptly under.

Dean instantly whirled around in the water, kicking at the hand on his ankle. He got a faceful of shrieks in return but he just swung his knife towards the source. The hand gripped his arm and yanked him closer to the thin, frail woman, who glared at him in fury.

Dean grabbed the woman's hair and pulled on it, making it screech angrily, but her grip loosened. Dean quickly raised his knife, but the water wraith yanked on him again, turning Dean's body downwards to drag him deeper. Dean almost lost his knife from the sudden jolt, but he focused on kicking at her stomach, hoping to distract her.

 _'Sammy is fine down here...'_

Dean froze for a moment, but that was enough: the wraith wrapped her hand around his neck and began pushing him towards the bottom. Dean, however, recovered quickly. He swung his knife upwards and managed to graze the thin arm, which in turn snapped away from him, letting him go. He propelled himself upwards and just succeeded in pulling some air into his starving lungs before he was yanked down again.

The wraith was now furious.

 _'Sammy doesn't need me anymore... He never did... He was fine until I appeared in Stanford and ruined his life...'_

But not as furious as Dean.

The words rushing through his head in his own voice didn't break him as the wraith intended. It just fueled his anger. He knew Sam had been put to this torture to make him break and turn him into an easy target who would be unable to fight the urge to drown himself. But Dean didn't let himself become that. He had more important things to do than wallow in his insecurities.

Like finding Sammy before he lost him again.

With that, he grabbed the wraith's neck, squeezed it tightly...

And plunged the knife into her heart.

Without waiting for her reaction, Dean swam upwards once more to get some air. The screech of the wraith was deafening even above the surface.

Once he gathered enough air into his lungs, he dived once more. As the wraith slowly dissipated, he yanked his knife out of her chest and swam away, his focus no longer on her.

Now, his determination was accompanied by panic. His fight with the wraith just wasted precious seconds of Sam's life and he can't afford that. He squinted and widened his eyes until they hurt, looking for any sign of his little brother, but so far... nothing.

He resurfaced once more, not willing to give up. He won't lose his brother again, not ever...

When he had to reemerge again, his heart jolted.

Were those... _boots?!_

He barely let himself get air before he dove back down, heart racing in his chest. Yes, boots! Attached to jeans! A beige jacket! _A dark mop of hair!_

 _SAM!_

Dean quickly swam above his brother's unmoving body and saw his eyes closed and his lips parted. The world turned upside down as the sight sank into his brain: Sam wasn't awake!

He cradled his little brother's cheeks, searching for a sign of life, but he was unsuccessful. He felt the pressure of sobs fighting in his throat for freedom, but he couldn't let it loose. He slid his arm under Sam's torso and pulled on him, swimming upwards, hoping there was still time...

He gasped out loud as he broke the surface.

He yanked his brother upwards towards air, but Sam was too heavy in his arms and it made him sink back down. Dean felt a gulp of water rush down his throat before he kicked himself back up. He coughed then pulled Sam's back into his chest, laying the kid's limp head back onto his shoulder.

"Sammy?"

He grunted with effort to keep them afloat, but his eyes roamed over his brother's features. Sam's eyelids looked paper-thin, his skin was white, hair sticking onto his cheeks, his lips had turned blue-

That jolted his brain into action.

"Come on, kiddo" he muttered and kicked out in front of him, swimming backwards and to the shore with Sam resting on him, head above water. Dean hoped that his involuntary tugs on Sam's chest might upchuck the water from Sam's lungs and stomach, but when he reached solid ground, Sam remained still and heavy.

He laid his brother onto the grass, kneeling next to him and cradling his cheeks once again.

"Sammy?" he pleaded, and just the sight of Sam's lifeless face broke him almost completely. "Sammy, don't do this to me..."

Gasping against a sob, Dean leaned over Sam's immobile chest and listened. Nothing... No heartbeats, no rush of blood, no rumble of air. He straightened up and pressed two fingers to Sam's neck. No pulse...

"Nononono" Dean shook his head, denying the tears, which blurred his vision, and the fact laid out right in front of him. "No, you can't do this to me... Sammy..." Dean blinked and felt drops of water trickle down his cheeks... It was just water from the lake, of course...

Dean growled in fury.

"You _**won't**_ do this to me!"

Quickly, he rose onto his knees and laid his hands, one on top of the other, right in the center Sam's chest. He began the compressions, hard and rhythmic, fueled by anger and some desperation. He mumbled the numbers under his breath, counting to thirty, at which point he grabbed Sam's head, tilted it back, pinched his nose and blew forcefully into his mouth two times. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Sam's chest rise slightly and he thought he could feel a drop of water hit his tongue. He returned to the compressions and fell into a furious monotony.

"You don't get to quit, you bitch!" He gasped out, keeping a careful count in his head. "You won't get... to leave me again!" He leaned down again, but paused for a fraction of a second: small, shiny streams of water were dripping down on Sam's cheeks, starting from the corners of his mouth. Dean leaned down and listened for any sign of breathing - futilely. Again, he gave two blows into Sam's mouth, which made Sam's chest rise even more, before resuming. "I'll never... forgive you... if you quit... on me, you... lazy asshole!" He ignored the crack of his voice as he fought for his brother's life and tried hastily feeding his anger even more. He had to remain furious if he wanted to stay calm...

More water was spewing slowly out of Sam's mouth and even his nostrils. That had to be a good sign, right? Dean continued his ministrations, grunting with every compression and making himself dizzy with every exhale into his brother's lungs. He can't give up, Sam has to come back, even if Dean broke his ribs in the process, he can't give in-

"Don't leave me... Please..." Dean unknowingly repeated one of Sam's panicked pleas before his fall as he grew more and more desperate. He can't let the bitch win, he can't give in, he can't lose Sammy-

A choked gag then a lung-shattering cough broke his focus. Dean's head almost flew off of his neck as he snapped it towards Sam's face. The kid was wriggling and convulsing, but he was _alive!_

"Sammy!" Dean cried out in relief. He hastily rolled Sam onto his side before wrapping his arms around the convulsing shoulders, pulling his little brother into a tight embrace. "It's okay, kiddo... It's okay... Just let it out, baby boy..."

Sam's shaking fingers grasped Dean's hand as the kid began gagging, throwing up an excessive amount of water. Dean raised his free hand to brush Sam's dripping mop out of the kid's face then returned it around Sam's stomach. He wedged his head into the crook of Sam's neck from behind, just letting his mind and body revel in the fact that his brother had returned to him. For a second, he forgot about the too strong shakes of Sam's body, the painful, barking coughs exploding around them, the stench of vomit and murky water invading his own lungs and the hitches of his breath...

He just took in the living, wriggling presence of his little brother, the only person his life was worth living for nowadays.

* * *

Sam jerked forward as he coughed forcefully, his throat and lungs burning from the inside out. He could feel soft, warm fabric embracing his curled up form, before soothing cold wiped at his steaming forehead. He forced his eyes open and took in Dean's worried frown as the man tried to cool his raging fever. Sam tried to speak, to calm his brother down, but instead another set of dry, barking coughs erupted out of his abused lungs.

"Easy, kiddo" Dean whispered, considerate about the sandpapers wishing to assault Sam's eardrums. "If this doesn't let up by tomorrow, I have to get you to the hospital. Before you get a too severe pneumonia."

Sam coughed once more, feeling as if his lungs wanted to claw their way out through his throat. The damp towel slowly slid down his forehead and onto his burning neck, soothing his rapidly beating pulse hammering away at his brain.

"De'" he rasped out, convulsing from the lava scorching his airways.

"Shh, kiddo, I'm here" Dean engulfed him in his warm embrace, the only warmth pleasant for Sam's oversensitive body.

"Don'... leave..."

Dean looked sad at his words, but his hand caressing his cheek and hair was nothing but loving.

"Never, Sammy" the man replied in a firm whisper. "Never..."

* * *

The soft, muffled chirps of birds flitted into the motel room when Sam opened his eyes later. A shudder rushed through his weak body, but a thick layer of blankets kept any warmth he couldn't store inside. He groggily looked around, his vision hazy and swimming. His stomach roiled slightly when the smell of sizzling bacon invaded his nostrils. It smelled delicious, but Sam didn't want to risk it yet. He moaned as he tried to call out for someone, _anyone..._

His head began throbbing from the loud, harsh coughing fit erupting out of him.

He curled up involuntarily, hugging his aching torso as he practically gagged into his palm. Every jerk of his body, every scraping on his throat sent a dull pain up his spine and into his brain. A warm hand steadied his convulsing body, brushing his , greasy hair out of his forehead.

It felt like days until he managed to calm down and look up again. Dean was watching him cautiously next to him, but when their eyes met, the man grinned at him.

"Welcome back, kiddo" the older Winchester whispered, stroking through Sam's hair in the by now very familiar motion. "Take it easy, I'll get you some tea."

Sam watched in a daze as Dean turned around and marched out of the room. Sam could just see his brother's back through the doorway, standing by the counter and pouring steaming liquid into a large white mug. He blinked, a little weirded out by the strange picture, too domestic than what he was used to. Dean wasn't even wearing boots!

When he looked again, Dean was already sitting on the edge of the bed, placing the mug onto the nightstand.

"Up we go, then" the man murmured, worming his hands under Sam's torso. Sam closed his eyes tightly as the world swayed and tilted around him a little too fast, but he was soon settled down against warmth and softness. His rising eyelids revealed himself reclining and Dean holding out the mug to his lips. Sam parted them and let the warm, sweet tea wash his aching throat down, swiftly soothing the pain and the scratching. He reached up with shaking fingers and cupped the warm porcelain, enjoying the heat melting into his white, cool skin. He pushed the mug away when it was half-empty. "Better?" Dean asked, keeping the tea in Sam's lap, letting him hold it with both hands. Sam gulped then opened his mouth for an attempt:

"Yes..." his throat flared slightly but the urge to cough had vanished finally. He winced as he registered his chain smoker-voice. "Thanks..."

"You're welcome."

"What..." Sam let his body roll with one smaller cough against a scratch in his throat and it eased off almost instantly. "What happened...?"

Dean's face darkened and the jade-green eyes slid to the side. Sam glanced down as something warm wrapped around his wrist: a hand.

"What do you remember?" Dean finally asked. Sam closed his eyes and relaxed back as he mentally took the trip back in time.

 _Thin, constant ringing..._

 _Silvery glow..._

 _Smooth water..._

 _Golden eyes... Turning pale and covered with a film..._

 _A screech... A scream..._

 _"SAAM!"_

Sam gasped as he returned to the present. He slid his free hand onto Dean's outstretched arm and copied the same grip on his brother's wrist.

"You... came..."

"Of course, Sammy. I will always save your ass."

"'M sorry..."

"Don't" Dean's gaze hardened in anger. Sam wanted to flinch but his brother leaned forward, drilling his gaze into bloodshot hazel-green eyes. "It wasn't you. I heard you up there. You tried to fight it. It tried to get to me, too. But I had to save you from the water so it didn't work."

This time, Sam actually flinched.

"Di'n' work f' me" he rasped out devastated. Dean frowned as he scooted next to his little brother, leaning against the headboard with his side.

"What do you mean?"

"Wan'ed t' save you" Sam sniffled as he slid into his brother's chest, hoping to get some comfort before all Hell broke loose. "Couldn't stop..." The younger man's head lifted from the sigh travelling through Dean's lungs, speeding the older man's heart up for a second.

Then an arm wrapped around his shoulders, just lying there, making its comforting presence known. Sam closed his eyes as he basked in the touch.

"You watched me being grabbed by a harpy to be dragged off" Dean began softly, no reprimand in his gruff tone, "and shot at it, saving my ass not just then but later when I torched it, as well. I watched you fall from a height of God knows how much and hit a hard body of ice-cold water with who knows what speed... There's a difference, kiddo."

"But-"

"I was angry because I couldn't stop it happening..." Dean continued, cutting Sam's protest off. "I was panicking because I was on the worst time-crunch of my life... I was too focused on finding you to let that bitch get to me... I was too terrified to lose you, so I didn't let her divert my attention."

"Me, too..." Sam protested weakly, eyes brimming with tears as memories from before his fall reemerged from the dark recesses of his mind. "Don' wanna lose you..."

"I know, Sammy" Dean squeezed Sam's shoulders reassuringly. "But you had a positive experience when I got in danger: you saved me. I had a negative one: I was too late and couldn't catch you before you fell. Then you..."

Sam glanced up as Dean's voice broke. The older man was gazing at the wall behind them, fighting the obvious glitter covering his eyes. Sam frowned, not sure what brought this on-

 _White, bright light..._

 _A petite form..._

"Did... did I...?" he tried asking uncertainly. Dean glanced down at him, gazing at him in wonder and awe before nodding. Sam's eyes widened in shock. No wonder he was so sick. He...

He drowned...

Sensing even with his muddled instincts that his big brother was upset, Sam shifted around. Dean quickly reached down and grabbed the mug from his weak grasp before it soaked them and put it behind him onto the nightstand. Sam turned onto his side shakily and burrowed himself into Dean's chest, grasping at the soft shirt and resting his cheek on his brother's upper arm. That arm wrapped around him from the front, while his free one slid up Sam's back, rubbing at it for a while before fingers settled amongst his tresses.

Sam closed his eyes, trying to register how close he got to... _not_ being anymore and it sent a shudder throughout his body. He let more tears flow and sobs constrict his chest as a bleak picture entered his mind: his brother broken, wasting away from the guilt... Feeling like a failure at his most important job: watching out for his little brother... The heartbreaking prospect almost caused physical pain for him. Would his brother feel like Sam would if Dean died in front of his eyes? If Sam was too late? Because if the answer is yes, then Sam would rather run away again than cause that pain to his only family... Not even his Dad can invoke such a devastation on him... And apparently on Dean, as well.

 _"Sammy..."_

Sam flinched as a voice spoke in his head. He grasped Dean's shirt tighter, afraid that the wraith got into his head again, despite it being dead. He tried to pay attention to Dean soothing his shaking body, but then:

"Mom...?"

Dean froze at his breathless voice. Tense silence filled the motel room as Sam tried to pinpoint the source of that loving voice while his brother fought his shock at what was suddenly revealed to him. Sam finished first: it was another memory...

 _"Sammy..."_

 _The petite form standing in the warm white glow smiled at the young man stepping closer to her. Sam watched with wide eyes as none other than Mary Winchester waited for his approach, her jade-green eyes - so much like Dean's - glowing with love._

 _"M-Mom..." Sam breathed, tears rolling down his cheeks at the one person he loved and never could've met. He walked slowly towards her but as more of her beautiful features were revealed to Sam's eyes, the weaker and shakier he got. Just a step or two away from her his knees gave up and crumbled._

 _A pair of small, strong hands caught him and guided him onto the... ground? Light? Air?_

 _Sam watched as Mary knelt down next to him and leaned into the smooth, soft touch of her palm caressing his cheek._

 _"My sweet, sweet baby boy" she whispered, her angelic voice choked by her own tears. Sam felt himself collapse on the inside and with soft sobs he burrowed himself into her embrace. She hugged him tightly and lovingly, like no one else could, not even Dean... Like only a mother could... Sam never had that and now it hurt him so much with how much he missed it..._

 _"Mom" he gasped out, clutching at her desperately. "'M sorry... I tried..."_

 _"Shh, baby" Mary soothed, carding her fingers through her youngest son's hair painfully similarly to Dean. "I was so proud of you when you got into Stanford. I'm so sorry for all that's happened to you since you left, but I'm proud of what you and your brother are doing, saving so many people... Jessica loves you, as well, baby, she sends her love..."_

 _Sam straightened up in shock and gazed into his mother's eyes._

 _"R-Really?"_

 _"I swear" Mary answered with a warm smile. "I would've loved to call her my daughter-in-law... But Sam, what are you doing here?"_

 _Sam frowned. He looked away and had the sudden urge to turn back. That, however, only revealed impenetrable darkness._

 _"I don't know" he gazed at his mother, looking for answers. "I'm dead, I guess..."_

"She sent me back" Sam said, catching Dean's attention. "She waited for me... on the other side and sent me back... She said it wasn't my time yet."

"Damn right it wasn't" Dean growled out, tightening his hold on his little brother. He didn't see Sam closing his eyes in relief. The younger man was glad and the pain of leaving the peace behind was now even more worth it. "At least it's over now. I guess... the black dog was right. And I'm glad we survived that."

Sam didn't answer. Yes, things were fine now. He was back with his brother, alive, ready to resume their search for their Dad.

He didn't need to tell his brother about Mary's tears.

He didn't need to tell him about her sad, grave voice.

He didn't need to tell him how she said: _"We'll meet again... Soon..."_ in such a dejected tone.

He didn't need to tell him of the cold dread still swirling in his gut, biding its time.

And he didn't need to tell him about the faint outline of a canine sitting next to the bed, staring at him with brightly glowing, golden eyes, reading his soul...

 _Knowing_ his fate...

He was going to die.

Much sooner than he wanted... or expected.

 _The End_

* * *

 **So, how was it?** _  
_

 **I really hope you liked it.**

 **I might post the next prompt the day after tomorrow. I'm halfway done and it's already this ^ long...**

 **See you soon, then!**


	6. Chapter 6 For Averystorm

**ULTIMATE DISCLAIMER: Every content, character, plot etc. that anyone is able to recognize as other's property is NOT mine. I have no intention to get into any trouble involving law and money.**

 **Hey, guys!**

 **Next one:  
**

 **Prompt: _"Can you write Sam sick with the worst cold he's ever had and mother hen!Dean hovering over him and making him stay in bed all day? I'm thinking I want it set in either season 2 or 11, I know that's a big time difference but those are my two favorite seasons! Lol. You can set it in another season if you think it would be a better fit somewhere else though :)."_ by Averystorm.  
**

 **Set: Season 11, after episode 17 (Red Meat, maybe my favorite episode out of this season :D).  
**

 **Warnings: Sick!Sam, Fevered!Sam, Mothering!Dean, Awesome!Dean, Suffering!Winchesters, pretty detailed descriptions of sickness (I don't think it's that bad, but just in case), emotional breakdowns (just one or two)... And, to be safe: OOC.  
**

 **The temperature might be off, because in Hungary we use Celsius, but I still tried to Americanise it (thanks Wikipedia and other converters :)).  
**

 **I am SO SORRY about being late. The water tap broke and then real life spat into the middle of it... I just really hope you'll still like it.  
**

 **If someone asks for 'worst', apparently my mind - and probably Sadie - takes it very, VERY seriously... Whoops! ^-^**

 **Well, on to this motherload of a story!**

* * *

 _ **The War Of The Winchesters**_

Dean glanced up from the yellowed page in front of him, a bit annoyed and a lot worried as the third wet sniff echoed among the bookshelves. When his eyes landed on his target, the annoyance was obliterated by the sight greeting him, worsened by the dim light of the desk lamp next to him.

Sam was sitting on the other side of the table, leaning over his own book. He was hunched over, shoulders fallen, head drooped, only staying upright by the fist propping him up at his chin and the elbow resting on the tabletop. The young man looked pale and exhausted, his nostrils seemed flushed pink and his nose might've been slightly swollen. Hazel-green eyes looked dazed under half-closed lids, and they probably were staring at nothing in particular, their owner forgetting to follow the words laid out in front of him. Dean frowned as he took in his little brother - then sighed wearily.

Let the war of the Winchesters begin!

* * *

The first battle: Sam Winchester's stubborn ass.

"Sammy?" Dean tried, keeping his voice nonchalant.

"Hm?"

Now Dean's frown deepened. This time yesterday, his call had been answered with a quick, ready for business "What'd you find?" This world-weary, morose grunt was so telling that if Dean hadn't already known something was wrong, he would've realized it now.

"You okay?" he asked and that finally tore Sam's gaze away from the air above the book - because he sure as Hell wasn't reading still.

"'M fine" as if the nasally words weren't enough, Sam sniffed again, which, however, resulted in an eruption of a coughing fit. Dean grimaced at the amount of phlegm he heard in his brother's throat. He just shook his head, though, when Sam wiped at his nose with his shirt-sleeve and returned to staring at words again.

For a man throwing a temper tantrum every couple of days against being treated like a kid, Sam was sure acting like one right now. As Dean watched him in thought, trying to come up with anything to convince his brother to take care of himself - like an adult would - he caught the slow trickle of a shiny drop above Sam's mouth.

At least he found an excuse.

"Okay" Dean spoke then grabbed his brother's book and slammed it closed, pulling it away from him. Sam startled at the thud and jolted back, straightening up for the first time since they sat down.

"What the hell, Dean?" Sam's indignant words were kinda ruined by the crack in his voice, indicating a drying throat and weakened vocal chords. Dean added that to the growing list of symptoms in his head.

"I'm not risking an important text in danger of being redecorated in green and yellow" Dean replied, putting the book to the side and away from Sam. When he returned his attention to the upcoming fight, he found himself in the center of a squinted glare. Sam must be getting a headache from the painful strain of his eyes.

"Dean, 'm fine" Sam tried to be angry, but Dean could only hear the hoarseness of his throat and the petulance of a five-year-old. Oh, and the stuffed nose.

"Yeah, sure" Dean shrugged dismissively, earning the pale version of the infamous Bitch Face. It might've been more effective if not for the pinched look and dazed eyes. "Why don't you lie down for a little while? I can handle this on my own until then."

"Dean, we need to find Amarra" as irritated as Sam could get by Dean's bossy nature, Dean can get twice as bad by Sam's patronizing tone. "And Cas before things get worse."

"They'll still be gone and ready to be found after you take a nap in your room."

"I don't need a nap, I'b fine."

Dean narrowed his eyes angrily as Sam's own body contradicted his words: the older Winchester could practically see the blockage gathering in Sam's nose and the kid's brow was wrinkled from the ache increasing behind it.

"Sammy" Dean began, keeping his tone soft, not wishing to anger his brother and his condition to take a nose-dive. "The world's not gonna explode, if one of us takes a break. You can go to your room, get into your soft, comfy bed and get some rest without feeling guilty. I'll stay here and continue searching and if I find something, I can come get you and you won't miss out on the action, okay?"

Sam stared at him in suspicion but Dean could see the longing in his gaze. The kid was tired and wanted nothing but sleep, except his guilt and sense of duty hadn't left him alone.

"Dean-"

"Just for an hour" Dean offered. If his assumptions were correct, an hour would be enough to make a dent in this battle. Sam remained stiff for another moment then slumped in reluctant defeat.

"Fine" as Sam pushed himself to his feet a little shakily, Dean resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Sam still had to act as if his big brother was a tyrant. "For one hour."

"Good" Dean nodded. "Now give me your phone."

Sam turned back to his brother confused. Dean was staring at him firmly, hand outstretched, ready to accept what he was requesting.

"What?"

"If you have your phone, you won't have a proper nap" Dean explained. Inside he felt annoyed again. Why does this need to be explained? "You'll worry over everything, you'll expect for shit to hit the fan by a phone call to you and instead of resting, with eyes closed and asleep, you'll stay up and twiddle with your phone, possibly even resuming research. So, give it to me!"

Sam stayed stiff as a statue, wide eyes staring in disbelief at the older man, but when Dean didn't budge, he huffed in irritation. Fishing his cell out of his pocket, he slammed it into Dean's palm and without another word or a look back, he stomped away. Dean shook his head again.

This was just a temporary retreat. The battle wasn't over yet.  
***

Sam shifted under the blanket, reemerging to the land of the living. He struggled to open his eyes, itchy and heavy. He must have been sleeping pretty deeply. He didn't want to admit it, but he had been run down and exhausted for a couple of days now. But he was always so afraid to leave the troubles behind, just for a little while, because usually troubles exploded all over their faces before they could stop them.

Dismissing his depressing thoughts, he tried to take a breath, but something was blocking his airways, making him inhale forcefully. He swallowed against the fluid sliding down into his throat, most of it staying in there, urging him to cough. When he obeyed, he could feel it thrust out of his mouth and into his palm by the explosion of air, but plenty more stayed behind.

He couldn't let Dean find out about this.

Speaking of Dean, he should join him in research again. The older man shouldn't work alone all day. If Sam hadn't been so weak and useless, they might've gotten much closer to Amarra and they probably could've saved Cas from Lucifer by now. He glanced up, rubbing at his eyes sluggishly, ignoring the pull of fatigue on his mind and body.

He shot upright, when his eyes landed on his clock.

He'd been sleeping for five hours!

A surge of anger made him shove the blanket off of him. Why didn't Dean come and wake him after the hour was up? Because it _was_ an hour they agreed on! The further four hours could've been spent more productively than just lazing around in bed, ignoring the problems outside the bunker! Sam shoved himself onto his feet.

And fell into his desk, tripped over by a sudden whirl of dizziness.

He just managed to catch himself on the desktop, and his body began shivering with effort to stay upright. Sam gasped for air, trying to calm down, but the inhales aggravated his throat and sent him into another coughing fit. He tried to take another deep breath through his nose, but one of his airways was clogged completely, while the other rattled noisily, forcing him to sniff hard, swallowing more fluid down.

He grimaced in disgust. Great, he managed to get himself sick. But it must be just a simple cold. He'll get some tea and a pile of Kleenex and he's good to go.

Straightening up from his desk a little more cautiously, he walked out of his room. He couldn't let Dean know about this. The older Winchester was disappointed enough in him as it is. He can't be shot down now, he needed to march on even if it kills him, because they had to solve this, they had to help Cas, they had to stop the end of the world, _again-_

"Sammy?"

Dean's voice behind him made Sam jump and spin around, but the sudden shift of direction left the room spinning. He felt his back hit the wall as he groaned instinctively, closing his eyes tightly against the dizziness.

He was screwed now.  
***

Dean rushed forward as Sam stumbled into the wall, face draining of colour - even white. He grabbed Sam's arms, keeping him upright as he took in his brother's sorry state. He had purposely waited as long as he could to wake Sam, checking on him in every hour. He had heard the rattle of his breaths and the stuffed nose, and it had gotten worse and worse each time.

He had just come out of the nearest bathroom after the latest check-up, when he found his brother stumbling down the hallway. From the set of his gait, Dean knew Sam was determined, probably to show everyone he was fine and, even if anyone was deluded enough to think he was sick, Sam can tough it out.

What he also didn't expect was Sam almost fainting after he called out to him.

"Sammy? You okay?" Stupid question, but they had to start _somewhere!_

When Sam opened his eyes, Dean could still see some embers in the misty gaze, ready for another round. Dean knew he had a stronger arsenal, but Sam had the stronger Winchester survival instinct: even in certain defeat you fight to the end.

"'B fide" Sam mumbled out, shivering under Dean's hands as he tried pushing himself up and off the wall. Dean winced at the obvious sign of Sam being sick, which was followed by another one: the kid began coughing, his throat rattling with phlegm trying to break free.

"Sammy, you should get back to bed" Dean spoke, now full-on worried.

"I'b fide" Sam repeated angrily, glaring at his brother.

"You're sick-"

"'S jus' a cold-"

"Which can be treated by resting and sleep, so off to bed!"

"I'b fide!" Sam snapped back, his voice louder with anger.

"Jesus Christ, would you act like a FUCKIN' ADULT?!"

Dean's shout left a ringing reverb in the corridor and a wide-eyed Sam watching him in shock. Dean pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He always forgets how infuriating Sam can be sometimes.

"Sam" he spoke, his voice soft and persuasive. "The last hunt wore you out more than you think or want to think."

"It's-"

"I'm not talking about being shot" Dean could practically read the retort off of Sam's face. "That's in the job description and we dealt with it out there as well as possible. You even managed to kill three werewolves. You showed more endurance than any other hunter I know."

Sam flushed at the praise, and Dean could only hope something finally loosened up inside him.

"But" he frowned sternly at his stubborn little brother, as he prepared to bring the blow "you spent a whole night in a cold cabin, lying on a cold floor, losing blood and... practically dead..." Dean turned his head away, trying to regain control over his emotions. He had almost died himself when he had to leave his brother's body behind, and he had been breaking bit by bit with every passing minute he couldn't get back to him - until Sam had called him in the morning, alive and breathing. Dean took a deep breath and returned his attention to his little brother. He thought he caught a suspicious glimmer in Sam's eyes before the kid blinked.

"It's obvious that didn't left you unscathed" he continued. "Yes, you have a cold, but that doesn't mean you should ignore it or not treat it properly. So, please" Dean emphasized the word 'please', trying to break down Sam's resistance. "Go to bed and let me help you."

"You're no better than be" Sam still fought back, glaring at Dean for preaching to him about something he himself refused to do.

"You're right" Dean's reply earned another wide-eyed look. "I do act like nothing's wrong when there's obviously something wrong. I'm a childish asshole, as a lot of people proved it to me countless times - including you." Sam flinched but still stared at him in shock. "But do you know what I did when we got back home after the hunt?"

Dean waited for any response and got a reluctant shake of the head.

"Of course not" he resumed. "Because you immediately buried yourself in books, forcing yourself to work - which _you've_ been trying to stop _me_ from doing all the time - and completely missed everything that happened the next couple of days, which is when I finally joined you in research."

Sam flushed even deeper, but Dean was partially glad some colour was returning to his skin.

"But before that" Dean explained further "I spent twelve hours sleeping off the drugs in my system" he tried to ignore the flinch of hurt rushing through Sam as he was reminded of Dean's actions. The older Winchester knew the doctor had informed Sam about the pills... "Then I did nothing but watch TV and rest, while drinking plenty of fluids and only getting up to go to the bathroom. Like you would've forced me in any other situation whether I'd like it or not. Because guess what! I'm adult enough to realize when it's time to be a childish asshole and this time it wasn't."

"You, however" Dean's voice began trembling in anger, "instead of doing what you always throw a temper tantrum for, are acting like an immature idiot, risking your health to take a nose-dive when you're needed the most." Sam flinched again, but this time also turned his head away in guilt. "And, you know, contrary to _your_ popular belief, I want you fighting by my side strong and healthy, not trailing behind me, weak and shooting yourself in the foot when aiming forward."

Sam stayed silent after Dean finished his monologue. Dean himself was a little surprised at how much he spoke. He didn't plan out what he would say to set Sam back into reality, so this improvisation was out of the blue, even for him. Although, judging by the slump of Sam's shoulders, it was effective.

"They suffered so buch already" Sam whispered and Dean couldn't decide if it was meant to be heard. "I can't let theb..."

Unable to hold back anymore, Dean reached out and cupped Sam's cheek, getting the younger man's attention.

"Everyone's allowed to take a break sometimes" he said earnestly then frowned in suspicion. "And you can't argue with me this time, because, like I said, I took one. Now it's your turn."

Sam's eyes were definitely shining with tears now and Dean just waited, trying to be patient...

Finally, the resistance collapsed.

And so did Sam.

"Whoa!" Dean quickly grabbed his suddenly deadweight brother, wrapping a limp arm around his shoulders. "Okay, off to bed, kiddo."

Sam's only reply was a moan, but at least he tried to put one foot in front of the other.

Win: for Dean Winchester.

* * *

The next battle: snot and phlegm.

Hard soles thudding on iron steps filled the map room of the bunker. Dean hurried down the staircase, a plastic bag hanging from his grip. He had gone out to get some supplies, medicine and other means of treatment. He was hoping that his little brother didn't have a sudden surge of pride and ignored his instructions while he was gone. The kid was superb in finding a reason to ignore his own health and defying Dean's orders.

However, when he reached Sam's bedroom, he slumped with a relieved smile. Sam was still reclining in bed, dressed in a pair of sweatpants, a shirt and a robe, covered with a thick blanket and a thinner cover, because the kid was having trouble staying warm right now, the white mug of tea in his lap, warming his white, cold fingers. Dean saw his brother's cheeks reddening and he had a suspicion things won't be this peaceful for long. At least, Sam was asleep...

Or not, because as soon as Dean stepped into his room, tired hazel-green eyes opened and pinned onto him.

"Hey" Dean greeted him, sitting onto the edge of his bed. "Did I wake you?"

Sam shook his head lethargically, smiling ruefully.

"Was waitin' f'you..."

"Well" Dean put the bag into his lap and began piling his purchases onto Sam's nightstand. "I got you some cold medicine, cough syrup, some more tea, Kleenex" he put the box down onto the mattress and saw Sam lifting his mug up to his mouth. The tea Dean had made for him was disturbed by the shakes of his brother's hands. The thought of not interrupting Sam's guilt-trip soon enough flashed through his mind. "And just in case" he continued, holding a bigger box "a new thermometer."

Sam nodded, visibly exhausted now that he let go of his own macho-routine.

"So" Dean crumpled the bag and shoved it into his jacket pocket, "you up for something to eat before the medicine? I can make some nice, warm soup."

"Sounds g-great..." Sam choked on his words and began coughing. Dean hated listening to the rattling emitting from his brother, but they were at least on the way to treat it. Sam grasped for the box of Kleenex and ripped one out. While Sam blew his nose out, Dean shed his jacket, throwing it onto the nearby chair. By the time he turned back, the younger man was wiping away the residue with a disgusted grimace.

"What?"

"Dot good edough..." Sam grumbled, holding the used tissue with two fingers. Dean could see it was soaked already and couldn't hide his own distaste at the sight.

"Thought it might not be..." he muttered and reached for his jacket and pulled out a folded cloth handkerchief. "Here, try this."

Sam accepted the handkerchief and shook it open. Dean grabbed the soaked tissue and chucked it into the nearby trash can. In a second Sam began the long, arduous task of blowing his nose properly.

"At least this is more sanitary" Dean noted when his brother finished, only wiping at his nostrils.

"Yeah..." Just as Sam folded the handkerchief up again, another set of coughs erupted out of him, muffled by the textile.

"Alright" Dean patted Sam's arm gently before standing up. "I'll get you some soup." When he turned back in the doorway momentarily, he saw Sam sipping at his tea again. He was sure he heard the kid's teeth chattering. Things might be farther along than he calculated - and hoped.  
***

The soup was done faster than Dean thought. It was a strange feeling to fall back on his old ways and old duties. Sam had been an independent adult for so long now, it was nostalgic to go back to their roots, just taking care of each other - well, Dean taking care of Sam. It was never a burden, but a job he had willingly taken, and had done pretty well in, if he had to say so himself. It filled him with a sense of familiarity and security. He always felt most useful for his family when they had to be cared for. Now that he had the chance, he'll do a damn good job of it.

Following old instincts, he finished the tomato rice soup and ladled some into a bowl. He stuck a spare spoon into his pocket and on his way to Sam's room he grabbed the thermometer. He winced at the set of coughs greeting his entrance into the corridor, but thankfully, other than the redder cheeks, Sam looked the same as he left him.

He sat onto the edge of the bed again and lifted the empty mug from Sam's lap, handing the bowl of soup over. Sam's shaking hands ratcheted his worry up even more, but he kept an eye on the bowl. He didn't want his little brother to scald himself.

"Thaggz..." Sam's voice was growing hoarser. His throat must be acting up again with all this coughing.

"Want some more tea?" Dean asked, picking up the mug and tilting it inquiringly. Sam, mouth full of soup, just nodded. As the younger man swallowed the gulp down, his features eased up. Dean left again to make some tea and when he returned Sam had some more life in him as he drank the last gulps out of the bowl. Dean put the mug onto the nightstand then turned the digital thermometer on.

"Mouth or armpit?"

Sam pulled a face and began unbuttoning his shirt as an answer. Dean handed him the thermometer and watched as his brother slid it under his arm. As soon as Sam settled back, Dean gave him the mug of tea with a pill. Sam popped it into his mouth and took a gulp of tea with it, while Dean opened the bottle of cough syrup and pulled the spare spoon out of his pocket.

"Here" he gave the cough syrup and the spoon to Sam. The end of the spoon was jumping up and down slightly in Sam's shaky grip. Dean felt his insides tighten, knowing his brother will spill the whole thing onto himself if he didn't intervene. But should he? What if Sam gets angry again? They were doing so well so far-

"You want me to...?" the words tumbled out of his mouth without his permission. Sam squinted up at him confused then glanced at the spoon in his hand. With a sigh, he nodded and held out the objects. Dean, reeling a little from the surprising compliance, took them back and poured a dose of cough syrup out. Sam pulled another face as he took the medicine, although it wasn't as clear a disgust as with the tissue. It might've been just annoyance, really.

"What?" Dean asked.

"I'b useless... agaid..." Sam mumbled in irritation. Dean let out his own frustrated sigh.

"Yes, you are" he snapped out, putting the bottle and spoon onto the nightstand. He practically melted under Sam's glare, but he just had enough. "People are usually useless when they get vertigo lying down."

"'B dot that bad.." Sam pouted, rubbing the lip of his mug with his thumb self-consciously.

"If we don't get this over with, you'll be even worse" Dean replied, staring at his petulant little brother firmly. He didn't miss pouty little monster Sammy, that's for sure, no matter how adorable he is at any age. "So stop whining about it! Whine about how the cough syrup tastes like ass, how coughing your lungs up sucks and how much of a bossy jackass your big brother is, who won't leave you alone for one minute. But if I hear you whining about being useless on the job again, I will smack you into next month, got it?"

Sam stayed silent for a minute then:

"'Kay..."

"Now, drink your tea and go to sleep" Dean finished just as the thermometer began beeping under Sam's shirt. Sam pulled it out and gave it to him without looking at it. Dean wanted to think that the kid trusted him now to take care of him.

 _100.7_

Dean sometimes hated being right: Sam will have a fever.

Good thing he prepared for that occasion.

Sam put the mug onto the nightstand, still half-full, then shifted around, sliding down fully onto the mattress and turning onto his side, facing Dean. The older Winchester watched as his eyes closed and as Sam's body began unwinding, he carded his fingers through the long, brown locks lovingly. Sam sighed at his touch, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly upwards.

"Sweet dreams, baby bro" Dean whispered, leaning down and pressing a kiss onto Sam's temple. He carefully stood up, shut the lamp off and snuck out of the room. He could hear Sam's nose whistling and rattling as he tried to breath, indicating the long way to go to reach the turning point.

For the next few hours and into the night, he could hear Sam being woken up by rattling coughs, followed by loud blows into a handkerchief. He had just as much sleep as his little brother that night.

Win: for snot and phlegm - for now.

* * *

The next battle: sinuses.

Dean smothered a yawn as he made his by now instinctive trek to Sam's room. He took a big gulp of coffee he had just brewed, reveling in the bitter taste of pure caffeine hitting his system. After the rough night this was ambrosia from Heaven for him. Sam had been woken up more times than he could count by coughing, but he held himself back and only checked on the kid once, after 2 A.M. Sam had been asleep then, thankfully, but his throat had sounded sore as Hell as he had breathed through it.

The same sight greeted him right now: Sam half on his side, head slightly tilted back on his pillow, mouth open to a slit to breathe through it, but now his face was glistening with sweat. Dean carefully sat next to his brother and saw that the mug was empty. Sam must have woken up thirsty, which wasn't a big surprise.

Dean's eyes roamed over the sleeping young man, hoping he won't disturb the actual rest he's managing to get. He reached out and brushed some of the damp tresses out of Sam's forehead before resting the back of his hand against it. He frowned, knowing from experience that Sam's temperature had gone up. But just in case, he put his coffee down and picked up the thermometer. He lifted Sam's arm, mindful not to disturb his sleep and placed the thermometer under it. Sam whimpered softly as the cold plastic clashed with his heated skin.

"Ssh" Dean shushed him, fingers brushing through the damp locks tenderly. As he waited for the result, he kept one hand on Sam's upper arm and stroked at Sam's hair soothingly with the other. His gaze once again roamed over his brother's features but this time he leaned in closer, his suspicion rising. Sam's cheeks looked a little swollen and when he touched them with a fingertip, he felt the heat emanating from it. He sighed as he took a mental stock of the herbs in the kitchen cabinets. He decided to prepare for an option right now instead of facing a fact later without any means of immediate solution. His hand returned to stroking Sam's hair and when the thermometer's beeps yanked some more whimpers out of Sam, he made quick work to shush him back to sleep.

 _101.2_

Yep, he was right, again. It was bittersweet to face the proof of how well he knows his brother and the signs of his body, probably better than his own.

Standing up, he tucked Sam in, picked up both mugs from the nightstand and quietly hurried out of the room, making his way to the kitchen. He had some more brewing to do.  
***

A set of rattling coughs jerked Sam's body awake once more. He fumbled clumsily for the handkerchief in the pocket of his robe to cover his mouth with. He winced as his throat began stinging from the rush of air. It felt like something full of needles scraped all over its sensitive surface. As he slowly settled down, a shiver rushed through him making his teeth chatter. He glanced up and saw steam rising from his mug. He couldn't help the smile flitting across his face: Dean had been here. He pushed himself up against the pillows and reached for the warm tea, taking a slow, moderate sip of it to sooth his dry throat.

It was actually nice, just sitting back, surrounded by the warmth of the blanket and the enjoyably hot porcelain keeping the cold out of his fingers. He didn't want to admit this out loud, but whenever Dean was taking care of him like this, it made him feel loved, which, in turn, when he got better, returned him into his fighting stamina faster. One of the best feelings in the world is when you know someone's by your side, pushing you onwards and backing you wholeheartedly. After so much friction between them, Sam welcomed this feeling with open arms, and, maybe, he was glad for getting sick, just to see his big brother thriving in a role he loved.

Sam blinked, reemerging to reality, and took another sip of the tea. He frowned as he swallowed, feeling something strange in his nose. Closing his mouth, he inhaled.

And gasped out loud in fear.

He couldn't breathe!

He startled into motion, scrambling to the edge of his bed.

"Dead..." he called out, his voice hoarse and panicked. His brother couldn't hear him and he was gonna suffocate-

His sudden collision with the dresser snapped him out of his dazed terror and he began stumbling to his door.

"Dead" he tried shouting but his voice was too weak and when he tried breathing in, no air was passing through his nose and he's gonna _die-_

"Sammy!"

A pair of hands grasped his shoulders and shook him gently. Sam tried to focus his eyes onto the source of the voice and found Dean in front of him, watching him with concern.

"Come on" the older man said softly and Sam felt himself being pushed backwards. When his legs hit the edge of his bed, he was slowly lowered onto it, Dean kneeling down in front of him. "It's okay, I'm here. But what are you doing out of bed?"

"Ca't..." Sam cupped his palm quickly over his mouth as his throat protested speech. Dean waited patiently, as always, for Sam to get himself back together. When Sam finished, he tried to breathe again but it was useless and the pressure in his face was terrifying. He began gasping again in fear. "Ca't breathe..."

Instead of the fear Sam was expecting, Dean looked merely confused.

"Sammy" he spoke uncertainly, "you're breathing already."

"Do..." Sam shook his head firmly, but his body swayed as the room began to spin. "Do... Ca't..." he tried again but the pressure never let up.

"Hey, hey!" Dean grabbed Sam's jaw, forcing the young man to look at him "Calm down, Sammy, it's okay." Then Dean began smiling indulgently. "You're breathing through your mouth, you idiot."

Sam froze at the gentle tone, his brain clicking along a little sluggishly. He frowned as he turned his attention back to his lungs. Dean was right: they were still working.

"I... ab...?"

Instead of laughing, once more like Sam expected, Dean's frown appeared then his warm palm rested against Sam's forehead before sliding down onto his cheek.

"But... but..." he tried again to breathe in and the pressure sent a throb of pain up into his head. He reflexively lifted a hand to rub at his temple.

A snap of fingers right in front of his nose made him jump.

"Focus, Sammy" Dean spoke a little louder. "Talk to me. What happened?"

"By..." Everything felt a little stuffy now and Sam could barely keep his eyes open. And now he had a headache, as well... "By dose... Hurts..."

"What hurts, Sammy?"

"By face... Head..."

Dean nodded but didn't look surprised. Does he know already what's going on?

"Alright" Sam let the certainty in his brother's voice wash over him and calm him down. "Stay here and I'll be right back. We'll take care of your nose then."

Sam nodded tiredly and watched as his brother jumped up and hurried out of the room. A wild shiver instantly assaulted his body, chattering his teeth with its cold grip, so he wrapped his arms around his torso and huddled over, trying to get some warmth.

Dean will help him.

Dean will take care of him.

Dean can solve any problem.

And Sam trusted him more than anyone.

...

It was nice...  
***

Dean grabbed the oven mitts and shut off the heat under the pot. The soft rumble of boiling water ebbed away and he grasped the hot handles with the mitts. It was a good thing he had listened to the warning bells in his head, because finding Sam in such a frenzy could've been more disastrous if left unattended for too long. It's already worrying that his brother thought he was gonna suffocate by a stuffed nose, when there was a perfectly convenient alternate route for air to get to his lungs. Dean was sure the fever began its rampage then, fogging up Sam's brilliant mind with its heat. Thankfully, Dean had dealt with feverish, hallucinating Sam before, although that only occurred once during their childhood. That time, the kid had been mostly floating on clouds with the Thundercats by his side and only had one nightmare about Pennywise, after which Dean was able to sooth him relatively fast.

However, what was his biggest worry with another episode like that nowadays was what Sam would hallucinate after all the crap they had gone through.

As he approached Sam's room once again, he took a deep breath, mentally preparing to deal with any outcome as calmly as possible.

When he stepped into Sam's room, the kid was gazing at nothing, his cheeks flushed once more, the rest of his face white, a couple tresses sticking to his damp skin. His large, Sasquatch body was huddled, making Sam look much smaller than ever possible. Dean could see his hands grasping at his sides, shaking and white, as if the kid was freezing to death. Dean could practically see his joints rattling in their sockets, which in turn hammered in the fact that his brother was still so skinny after the ordeal of the Trials.

Dismissing his quickly rising dark thoughts, Dean put the pot onto the desk and pulled out the chair for Sam to sit in. He stepped to his brother's side, who didn't seem to notice anything going on around him, and wrapped an arm around the shaking shoulders.

"Come on, Sammy" he spoke softly. Sam jumped at his touch but relaxed when he realized who was with him. Dean grasped Sam's upper arms firmly and pulled the kid to his feet. Sam was almost convulsing as he struggled to remain upright, so Dean waited a couple seconds, hoping some strength will return to his ailing little brother. He closed his eyes momentarily, keeping himself calm. He hated to see Sam so weak, the memory of his shaking body leaning into him for support still too vivid in his mind for his liking...

No wonder he got so sick: his immune system was wrecked ever since.

"Ready?" he asked, rubbing Sam's arm, hoping to entice some warmth into it to ease the kid's discomfort. Sam leaned into him, letting his head drop into the crook of Dean's neck with a groan. Dean squeezed him in a sort of hug before he pulled him forward, prodding him into walking. They shuffled to the desk at a snail's pace, Sam finally surfacing from Dean's neck, and the older brother wrestled his sibling gently into the chair.

"How you holdin' up, kiddo?" Dean asked as he walked to Sam's wardrobe to get a towel.

"Sleepy..."

Dean snorted softly as he closed the drawer at the bottom of the wardrobe. It was such a Sammy-response that he barely managed to keep his laughter under control.

"Let's unclog your nose and you can sleep again, okay?"

He draped the towel over Sam's head then grabbed the lid on the pot.

"Lean over it" he gave a small nudge to Sam's shoulder and the younger man seemed to startle back to responsiveness. Shaky arms slid onto the desktop, framing the pot and holding an unsteady Sam upright. Dean let the towel fall onto his arm, the soft textile covering Sam's head and creating a cocoon as soon as Dean will withdraw. "Ready?" he asked, not wanting to startle his brother. He received a grunt in response, so he lifted the lid off, tucking the towel around the pot. A muffled hiss indicated Sam's first meeting with the herbal steam.

"Hot..."

Dean grinned at the whine in Sam's tone.

"That's the point" he answered, not even trying to hide his amusement. "Try breathing through your nose as much as possible." He turned to Sam's bed and saw the handkerchief on the mattress, right next to a dark spot on the cover, which originated from the mug resting on its side. Dean grabbed the handkerchief and pressed it into Sam's hand, whose fingers loosely wrapped around the cloth. "For once it gets moving" he added with a pat to Sam's back before he began putting Sam's bed in order.

At first, his background noise was a gasp every now and then, as Sam tried to follow Dean's orders. During that, Dean stripped the bed, putting the empty mug onto the nightstand. He got a fresh set of bedlinen, crisp and cool, which will be soothing for Sam's fever-heated skin. He gathered the used sheets in a pile at the door.

"I'll be right back, okay, Sammy?" he called out as he picked up the mug. "I'll just take the sheets out to wash."

"'Kay..." Sam grunted out from under the towel.

"Don't move till I come back."

"M-hm..."

Dean rolled his eyes, but he knew the sickness was making Sam tired, so he left the uncaring tone alone. He made another mug of tea for Sam after he put the sheets into the front loader. He was glad Sam had insisted for them to get a new one, since there hadn't been any actual working washing machines in the bunker, and doing the laundry in town was too bothersome when they had enough space for it in here.

By the time he got back, Sam was blowing his nose hard enough to probably get a nosebleed. Dean tidied up the bedroom and folded back the blanket for Sam. The younger man just finished up when Dean stepped to his side.

"Better?"

"Yeah, thagks" Sam replied, his hand reappearing on the table. Dean checked the handkerchief and could see that the blockage had been dealt with - and that he was right about the nosebleed. It wasn't bad, just a small amount of blood, but that's normal when you blow your nose too hard, so he didn't bother worrying about it.

"Wanna stay a bit more?"

"Cad I?"

"Sure. And what about a shower after this?"

"Oh, yeah... Defiditely."

Dean rubbed at Sam's back reassuringly then got some fresh clothes out for his brother: a pair of warmer sweatpants, a shirt and a thicker bathrobe, all of them freshly washed. They were lucky Dean had done some laundry a couple days ago.

With nothing else to do, he sat down a little, watching his brother's hunched back. Was he imagining it or was Sam's spine sticking out? Could it be that Sam was _this_ thin?

"Want some breakfast?" Dean asked, preventing the tightening of his gut. He glanced at his watch and frowned. "Well, lunch is more appropriate."

"Yeah" as if to confirm Sam's answer, a rumble erupted inside the kid's body.

"Soup?"

"What kind?"

Dean hummed in contemplation, listing the available types in the kitchen in his head.

"We have chicken broth, I can cook some more tomato rice soup, or if you're risky enough, I can put together some spicier stuff."

"Broth's fine..."

Dean was glad to hear some of the stuffiness disappearing from Sam's words. At least, that eased the kid's suffering.

"Broth it is, then" he nodded and as he stood up, he patted Sam's back gently in parting. The time it will take for him to make the soup will be plenty enough for Sam to finish with the herbal steam.  
***

Half an hour later, Dean returned with a bowl which he placed on the nightstand. He stepped next to his brother and rubbed at his shoulders. The handkerchief disappeared under the towel and soon loud, honking blows erupted out of Sam, hard enough to rattle his back under Dean's touch. As the younger man straightened up, Dean kept the towel over Sam's face.

"Hold onto this. We don't want you to get worse."

Sam, still shaking, grabbed the towel and pressed it into his face, mopping up the moisture gathered on his skin. Dean put the lid back onto the pot, keeping the chamomile brew inside, in case they needed it again.

"I started the shower for you, so it should be nice and steamy by now" he spoke, wrapping his arm back around Sam and helping him to his feet. Sam leaned into him, one arm sliding around Dean's waist, trusting as always in times of need.

The two made their careful way to the nearest bathroom, the rush of water leading them to it. Dean let his brother inside and closed the door behind them, keeping the warmth contained.

"Alright, you can take this off" he said, grabbing the towel. Sam let go of it and Dean rubbed at Sam's hair, feeling the water soaking the cloth under his fingers. Slowly he pulled the towel off, revealing Sam's flushed features. His cheeks were red from the slow, inevitable rise of his temperature, but he wasn't as pale now. His nostrils were rubbed raw from all the wiping and blowing. "As soon as you're safe in the shower, I'll leave you alone, okay?"

Sam looked at him uncertainly then bit his lower lip, even as he shed his robe.

"Can you... stay?"

Dean stared at his little brother surprised. If Sam asked him that... maybe he should stay.

"Sure."

Dean gulped as his heart broke: Sam was wincing as his clothes rubbed at his sensitive skin. His movements were interrupted by various shivers assaulting his weak body, hard enough to make him pause. However, he seemed to be alert enough to stay upright and clean himself for now.

"I'll just get your stuff, okay?" Dean said, gathering the dirty clothes from the floor as Sam stepped into the shower.

"'Kay..."  
***

The shower had been uneventful and Dean helped his brother dress into the fresher clothes. The steam had already settled, especially since Sam had turned the water to lukewarm by the end. That was another sign of a fever preparing for battle. Dean just wanted it to start, the threat looming over them fraying his own nerves.

Sam sighed when the warm, thick bathrobe engulfed his shivering body, the sleeves actually long enough the slide over the back of his hands. Dean had also gotten him some warm slippers, preventing him to catch a cold from the tiles. The brothers walked back to Sam's room together and Sam sat onto the edge of his bed where the blanket was folded back.

"How's your nose?" Dean asked as he pulled the chair around.

"Better" Sam sniffed slightly. Although it still rattled with blockage, he was able to breathe through it now.

"Let's help it along, shall we?" Dean smirked as he held up a tube of menthol rub. Sam nodded and unbuttoned the top two buttons on his shirt while Dean squirted some of the substance onto his fingers. The younger man closed his eyes as his brother massaged at his chest and neck, working the cream into his skin. "Smell that?" Dean asked. Sam took a breath.

"Yeah, a bit."

"Good." With that, Dean withdrew his hand and buttoned the shirt back up. Wiping his fingers down with a tissue from the box left on the nightstand, he stood up. "Off to bed then."

Sam slid his feet out of the slippers and scooted back against the headboard, sighing as he settled against the pillows piled up behind him. He let Dean tuck him in with the blanket, trapping some warmth under it. Dean handed him the thermometer and he obediently put it under his arm, then wordlessly accepted the bowl of broth. His stomach rumbled satisfied as he slowly ate the soup, relishing every sip of it. It also provided with extra heat and his shakes settled down into tremors.

The thermometer beeped, again just as he finished his meal, and he gave it to his brother.

Who frowned after reading it.

"What?" Sam felt some worry enter his mind. This can't be good.

Dean sighed grimly.

No, it's even worse.

"It's gonna be fine, Sammy" Dean said. Which meant right now, nothing was fine. Sam let out his own gloomy sigh.

"This is why I hate beigg sick" he mumbled, feeling his nose clogging up already.

"Who loves it, anyway?" Dean shrugged as he reached for the cold medicine. Sam popped the pill into his mouth and took a sip of tea his brother handed him. Then came the cough syrup, which he also washed down with the warm liquid.

"It's dot as bad as everyone thigks" he remarked, nodding at the bottle.

"Well, you always had a weird taste" Dean's smirk at least seemed genuine enough. Sam shimmied down the bed until he was horizontal and Dean arranged his pillows until his upper body was slightly elevated. Sam hid his arms under the blanket, which was then pulled a little higher, only leaving the top of his chest in the open so the menthol can reach his lungs and clear his airways. He felt himself being pulled down as the warmth under the blanket wrapped him in its soothing embrace. His head tilted to the side slightly, towards Dean, and just as he let himself sink under the surface of sleep, a hand stroked his head tenderly.

"Sweet dreams, baby bro..."

And Sam was swept away, the waves rocking him into peace...  
***

Dean glanced at the thermometer as his fingers carded through Sam's hair again, but the screen had already emptied out. The numbers, however, were seared into his brain:

 _103.7_

He put the plastic object onto the nightstand and took a deep, shaky breath, allowing himself a moment of weakness. As he glanced at Sam's peaceful features, with no indication of the heat raging inside the weakened body, his fingers slipped onto Sam's cheeks, caressing the flushed skin gently. He was scared to death to face the depths of Sam's fevered mind, because he knew his own plenty enough - and his brother had it much, much worse.

The war has just begun, both parties gathering plenty of supplies and men for it.

But for now...

Win: for Dean Winchester.

* * *

The next battle: fever.

Dean squeezed his eyes shut as he sniffed softly. He concentrated on the cold slowly creeping up from the tiles and the wall behind him and into his body. He had his forehead resting on his clasped hands and he ignored the small tickling traveling down his cheeks. He felt his own body shiver as things caught up to him.

One of the worst nights of his life.

Right up there with Sam... _gone..._

Never again... He won't let things get so out of hand again. He didn't care if Sam will be pissed. _Never! Again!  
_ ***

He woke up at 11 in the night and tensed up immediately. His stomach was tied into knots, and alarms were once again going off in his head. He threw his blanket off and jumped out of bed, rushing down the hallway towards Sam's room. Something was wrong, he knew it.

He could feel it.

The sight greeting him almost shattered him.

Sam was shaking in his bed, blanket slid off of his torso, hands lying limp, one on his stomach, the other on the mattress. His skin was white all over, except for the flush on his cheeks.

He was gagging into his pillow, which was soaked - and yellow.

Dean rushed in and ripped the drying towel from the back of the chair. He settled next to his brother and tried to save what he could, wiping at the kid's stained cheek and at the same time mopping up the vomit under him.

Just as he lifted Sam's head slightly to get to the hidden spots, Sam let out a heartbreaking whine and liquid erupted from his mouth. The force of his gags made the poor kid convulse and this time it wasn't just the pillow getting it, but the towel under his mouth and Dean's T-shirt.

"Crap" Dean breathed out, trying to catch most of the mess with the towel as his own body began trembling with worry. He wrapped his arm around Sam's convulsing shoulders and pulled him onto his side, closer to the edge of the bed. He knew he made a good choice: Sam gagged once more from the shifting around and a large amount of his stomach's content reappeared, most of it overflowing the towel and splattering onto the floor. Dean slid his hand up to Sam's forehead, keeping his hair out of harm's way. He dismissed for now the fact that the heat rolling off of Sam could burn his own skin off.

"Okay" he whispered, leaning down to Sam's ear, hoping he could give his brother some comfort. "It's okay... Just let it all out..."

Right on cue, Sam erupted again, grunting and whimpering with effort. Dean glanced at the trashcan close by mournfully, but he didn't dare to let go of Sam yet. He felt the pull on his T-shirt and knew his brother had sought out the closest banister he could grasp. The kid's hand was shaking so hard, Dean felt his knuckles knock against his stomach rapidly.

He sat there in silence, just waiting and holding his brother together, only mumbling a soft "It's okay" or "I'm here" here and there. Sam's body was slowly easing up, leaving longer pauses between convulsions, but the pained, panicked whines never let up. Dean knew that until Sam silenced completely, there was a risk of another surge in the near future.

So, even though the latest pause lasted for ten minutes, it didn't come as a surprise to him, when Sam gagged into the towel once more, because the whines never stopped.

For over half an hour, he had sat vigil over his brother, comforting him and keeping him from falling apart. Sam's last gag brought up air and a fat drop of saliva, but then, to Dean's relief, the kid relaxed. After the constant whimpering, the silence was eardrum-shattering. Dean still waited, wanting to make sure the fit had passed. The knuckles against his stomach stopped their rapping, although Sam's hand was still shaking on his thigh and the fingers never let up their tight grip.

"There we go" Dean whispered, pressing a kiss onto his brother's damp tresses. He leaned down, laying Sam's head onto a clean pillow, careful not to stain it with the yellow drops on Sam's chin. He yanked the trashcan closer and emptied the towel as much as he could into it. He threw the soiled cloth onto the puddle on the floor then grabbed the stained pillow. Using a corner of it, he wiped Sam's mouth clean. He grabbed the thermometer and placed it under Sam's arm. The kid most likely will stay still, exhausted and dazed after throwing up so much. While he waited for the results, he cleaned up the floor - he had to pry Sam's hand off of his T-shirt - and carried the soiled garments out into the bathroom to soak them in the tub.

How the sheets survived this ordeal was the greatest mystery he had ever encountered.

He settled back onto the bed, stroking Sam's hair soothingly as he waited. The kid's eyes were glazed over, glittering with fever above angry-red cheeks. Dean could see his brother's lips drying as Sam panted for air. He had to get the kid to drink something.

He almost broke down in sobs when he realized that.

The beep of the thermometer provided a quick distraction, but the numbers almost obliterated him:

 _104.9_

Dean buried his face into his free hand momentarily before taking a deep breath and facing the enemy head on.

First, he had to solve how to keep the room and the bed clean. He jumped up and returned to the bathroom. He yanked open the cupboard and grabbed the small, plastic washbasin, pouring some water into it so it'll be easier to clean. He placed the basin next to Sam's bed on the floor. It will be faster if he pulled Sam to the side of the bed than trying to keep it steady in his lap at all times.

Next, he had to get Sam hydrated again. He ran out of the room and into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water. He purposely left it out of the fridge so if Sam got sick of the tea, he could have something lukewarm and not freezing.

Speaking of fridge, after a moment of consideration, he grabbed a bottle of Gatorade, as well.

Last but not least, he had to keep Sam's fever under control. Grabbing another basin, he filled it with lukewarm water and threw a cloth into it. He carried it back to Sam's room and put it onto the nightstand.

Feeling like he was missing something, he sat down once more and shifted Sam onto his back, making him recline against the pillows. Hazel-green eyes staring blindly forward sent a bolt of pain through his heart, but he forced himself to concentrate on the task at hand.

He opened the bottle of water and pressed the lip to Sam's mouth. Sam whimpered but reflexively sipped when the water touched his lips. Dean pulled it back after a moment and soaked the cloth in the basin as he waited for the water to settle in Sam's stomach. He wiped at the kid's feverish skin, but Sam moaned in pain and yanked his head away from the cold.

"Ssh, kiddo" he shushed softly, stroking Sam's head with his free hand, at the same time keeping it in place until he wiped him down with the cold water. Sam squeezed his eyes shut and his hands fisted the blanket, shaking forcefully. His chest rose and fell rapidly as he kept whimpering, trying to jerk his head out of Dean's hands.

After Dean dropped the cloth back into the basin to soak, he grabbed the bottle again. Sam had become a little agitated, his eyes roaming unseeingly around the room. Dean cupped his cheek to direct his attention back to him and pressed the bottle to his mouth. Sam instinctively sipped at the water again so Dean dared to give him a bit more.

A mistake.

He just put the bottle down and turned back to his brother, when Sam's back arched and a trickle shot out of his mouth. He quickly pulled his brother over the edge of the bed and Sam managed to vomit everything back up into the basin on the floor. Even though he had barely anything inside him, the nausea kept him trapped longer, putting him through painful dry-heaves. Dean closed his eyes for a second, trying to summon strength to watch his brother's suffering. The sense of helplessness - and even uselessness - washed over him. He was trying so hard to help his brother, but there was only so many things he could do... He hated it when Sam was hurting...

Once he managed to settle Sam back onto the pillows, he picked up the bottle of water and began the whole process again: a sip of water, a thorough cooling by the wet cloth, another sip of water, another round of cooling... Long and monotonous... His ears were filled with constant whimpers and gasps as Sam reacted to the painful clash of temperatures. Dean tried to ignore the sudden tears rolling down the pale cheeks, but his vision kept blurring up with every heart-wrenching sound emanating from Sam's lungs.

Every couple of rounds Sam's stomach would protest harshly against the water, and Dean would yank his weak brother over the side of the bed and above the basin. Then the whole process restarted, creating a vicious circle of agony for both of them.

It went on for the whole night...  
***

"Come on, Sammy" Dean whispered desperately, placing the mouth of the bottle against Sam's trembling lips. Sam jerked his head back with a pained whine, fighting Dean's grip on his chin. "Please, kiddo..."

It was 7 in the morning and neither of them had any sleep. Dean felt his soul throb in agony as he tried to get his brother's fever down for hours now. Sam had been able to do nothing but shiver, moan, cry and fight in fear and pain. It was horrible to live through and witness and Dean could feel the toll it took on both of them. His throat had been tight for the last couple hours now, still fighting against the sobs trying to escape and his stomach was tied into multiple knots, waiting for the next bout of vomiting that will shred his little brother's insides and throat.

He had already switched the water to Gatorade, hoping to quell the nausea long enough for the medicine to dissolve in his brother's stomach and enter his system, but so far his attempts were unsuccessful - and even worse: whenever Sam regurgitated the ginger ale, it turned frothy, spraying all over them, making a bigger mess than the water had. And coupling that with the wild shivering, Sam looked like he had rabies.

"No..." Sam whimpered suddenly, the first word leaving his mouth since this ordeal began. Dean followed the jerk of Sam's head with the bottle and finally managed to get a sip into him. However, Sam practically convulsed and this time spat it out on purpose. His arms flailed around, trying to push an assailant away - not realizing it was his own brother. "No, please..."

Dean quickly put the bottle onto the nightstand and grabbed Sam's head firmly, trying to get his attention.

"Sammy?" he tried to catch his brother's roaming eyes, to no avail. "Sam, look at me! It's me, Dean, your annoying as hell big brother. Can you hear me?"

"No!" Sam cried out, kicking under the blanket and shoving himself weakly towards the headboard. "Nonono, no, let me go... Please... No!"

Dean gulped at the plea in his brother's voice and he instinctively lifted a hand and caressed the damp, dark locks.

"Ssh, Sammy, it's me" he muttered soothingly. "You're here with me, you're home, safe and sound. No one will hurt you while you're here - and while I'm here. It's okay, ssh, calm down..."

"No..." Sam seemed to settle down somewhat and one hand gripped Dean's T-shirt. "Not real... No..."

"Sammy, whatever you're seeing right now is not real" Dean kept up the calming strokes on Sam's hair. "You're in bed, you're sick and your awesome big brother is taking care of you. You hear me, buddy?"

Sam let out a pained moan and squeezed his eyes shut, but before Dean could panic, the younger man's free hand flew up to his brother's wrist. Dean gritted his teeth against the fingernails digging into his flesh, and immediately forgot about the pain when Sam leaned his head into his palm. He cupped the clammy cheek and rubbed his thumb tenderly up and down the sensitive, flushed skin.

"De..." Sam breathed out, his chest rising and falling rapidly, but the rest of his body slowly calmed down. "Real De... Love De..."

Dean swallowed again as tears welled up in his eyes. The level of trust that he could hear in his brother's voice overwhelmed his fragile nerves right now, but the love in his heart instantly spread throughout his body and soul. He leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss onto Sam's temple, leaning his forehead against it to lend his own - although waning - strength to Sam for his fight, and also comfort the distraught young man with his presence.

When he finally looked up, his brother calm and resting at last, Dean caught the numbers on the clock: _8:30 AM._ He was tired, his eyes were stinging, his back was killing him, but it was over. He stroked Sam's hair once more and, as the kid's fingers relaxed and let go of him, he stood up to wash the basin out.

While he worked in the bathroom, he wiped at his cheeks and eyes and sniffed loudly, trying to reign in his emotions. He knew most of this was from exhaustion, not just physical but emotional. This was a torture for the both of them... He only wished he could get to his brother through these deliriums, to give his comfort during the horrible images playing through Sam's fevered mind. Dean couldn't even imagine what would actually go through his brother's head. He knew the younger Winchester had the worse psyche and emotional baggage out of the two of them and on top of that, there was Lucifer and the Cage... Dean could only admire his little brother for being so strong and enduring all of this shit alone...

A large crash from outside the bathroom made him startle out of his troubled thoughts. Dean, heart pounding in his throat, let the basin fall into the sink and he bolted out of the room. He knew what caused that noise.

He was right on target.

Sam was lying on the ground next to the bed, some papers and books scattered around him after their fall from his desk. Dean rushed inside and threw himself down next to Sam, grabbing the shaking arms and checking all over his brother.

"Sammy?" he prodded, brushing Sam's hair out of his forehead as he turned the young man onto his back. It felt like his fingertips were scorched by the heat exuded by the clammy skin. He immediately caught the forming bruise on Sam's jaw where his head most likely met with the desktop. "Talk to me, kiddo."

Sam let out a moan of pain...

Then his body began convulsing.

Dean froze for one second before his instincts crashed through his shock: he turned the young man onto his side, arranging him into the proper posture. He held him in place, just like he learned from his father, while his mind reeled from the sight in front of him.

Seizure.

Dean, unable to contain it once this fact registered in his mind, let out a couple sobs of anguish, feeling the frustration engulf his already broken heart and shatter it into more pieces. He tried to keep his eyes on the clock, but Sam's out of control body kept drawing his attention back. He wanted to reach inside his brother, grab the fever by its throat and rip it to shreds! He wanted to find God and wring His neck as payment for the Trials that destroyed his little brother's body! He wanted to capture every last demon and carve them into pieces for every little torture they inflicted on Sam! He... He...

He had to gather his control back together. He can't lose himself right now. Sam needed him, more than anything, and he couldn't count on anyone else doing as good a job as Big Brother Extraordinaire Dean Winchester. So he took a deep breath, blinked the tears away and forced his eyes onto the clock.

Almost four minutes...

And Sam was slowly settling down once again.

Dean leaned over his brother and sighed in relief at the serenity on Sam's face. His eyes were closed in sleep it seemed, and when Dean stroked Sam's hair and cheek, the younger man didn't react. His pulse was slightly erratic, but strong, and he was still breathing.

Now... Maybe now...

Maybe it's over now...  
***

Dean leaned his head back against the wall as he inhaled deeply. He let a shiver rush through his body, partly from the cold wall and partly from the memories, then pushed himself to his feet. He turned around and stepped up to the door, gazing into the room tiredly.

Sam was once again in his bed, lying slightly on his left side, eyes half-open and staring ahead, face pale except for the flush of fever in his cheeks. Dean still felt the painful churn he got in his stomach after he gauged his brother's temperature a while ago:

 _105.5_

He knew he had to do something about the high fever before it got dangerous, but whatever he decided, he knew it will shatter the fragile peace currently surrounding Sam, bringing pain and terror into his delirious mind.

And Dean felt horrible about this as it is...

Hearing the soft whimpers in Sam's exhales, pitiful and heartbreaking, Dean cautiously snuck into the room. He reached out and stroked Sam's hair out of his forehead, the floppy, damp tresses always finding their way into the dazed hazel-green eyes. He didn't get a reaction to his touch this time and it broke him even more. The kid was so lost and tangled up in the woods of his feverish daze, he could barely acknowledge reality - if he even can.

Throat tensing up against another round of sobs, Dean yielded to the urge nagging him for the last hour now - since things got quiet: he climbed into Sam's bed, lying down behind him, and pulled his listless, skinny as hell little brother into his arms. He wedged his head into the crook of Sam's neck when the younger man's head tilted downwards from the shifting around, limp and unresponsive.

"We made it, Sammy" Dean breathed, letting his tears roll down his cheeks and nose. He pushed up just enough to press a kiss onto Sam's temple then settled down, just trying to remind himself that Sam was here, alive and they were both okay.

"We made it..."

Win: no one - but the Winchesters survived to fight another day.

* * *

The next battle: fever - second assault.

Dean smothered a yawn as he picked at his eggs in front of him. He blinked sleepily, feeling the pull of exhaustion after the rough night. He had a cat nap next to his brother from 12:35 PM till 2:12 PM - he knew that because he fell asleep and woke up with eyes on the clock - but it didn't seem enough. He still got the better deal, though: Sam was still awake - as awake as someone can be in their almost catatonic fevered daze.

He scrubbed at his gritty eyes as he reluctantly took another bite out of his... breakfast? Dinner? He couldn't even tell. He just had to eat something, because he had been getting dizzy from lack of sustenance and stress-induced high blood pressure. He had one ear and eye out for the broth he had cooking on the stove. Now that the nausea seemed to subside, he decided to try and get something nutritious into his little brother. The kid was burning up as it is, he didn't need to lose even more weight.

 _106.1_

Dean shuddered as the numbers flashed by his mind's eye. This one was taken by the new thermometer, one that is used on the ear. Dean didn't want to agitate his brother further with the cold plastic against his armpit, and he also didn't want to disturb him with painful jostles in his serene unresponsiveness. He shoveled the rest of his breakfast into his mouth, swallowing as fast as he could.

He had a bath to prepare.  
***

A terrified scream made him jolt in fear. Dean stopped momentarily at the entrance of the corridor, before he realized: it was Sam. The mad dash sent his footsteps ricocheting down the hall, but as he reached the bedroom, something large collided with him. He let out an "Oof!" and he fell backwards on his ass, a slightly heavier weight landing on him.

"No! Get away! NO!"

"Sam!" Dean shouted, grabbing hold of his brother's twisting, wriggling body. Sam was trying to rip himself out of his arms, but the older man couldn't _not_ notice the terrified glances backwards. "Sammy, it's okay, you're safe-"

"NOO!" Sam screeched after one of the glances over his shoulder. Dean instinctively followed his brother's fevered gaze to the door of his bedroom.

Nothing.

Why wasn't he surprised?

"Get aWAY!" Sam's voice could've burst Dean's eardrums, but the unabashed terror in them was more important.

"Sammy, there's nothing there" Dean tried, tightening his hold on his brother. "You're safe, the bunker is protected-"

His words were cut off as Sam began clawing at Dean's shirt, almost ripping it to pieces. Dean needed a moment - and Sam's arms actually reaching over his left shoulder to grip the back of his shirt and pull - to realize his brother was trying to climb over him to escape.

"No, they bite! They bit ME!"

Dean reached up and pulled Sam back into his lap, trapping the flailing arms as best as he could. He felt himself slide slightly backwards, which is when he noticed Sam's legs kicking out desperately. Luckily, he only had socks on his feet, so he couldn't get anywhere since he kept sliding on the tiled floor.

"Sammy!" Dean cried out, trying to reach his brother through the muddle in his brain. "There's nothing there, you hear? It's not real!"

For a moment, a fleeting glint of recognition seemed to flash across Sam's eyes, but it was gone too soon.

Followed by a loud scream and a hard flinch.

Dean grabbed the back of Sam's neck, forcing his brother's head onto his shoulder to still him, but after another violent jerk of his body - starting from the right leg and spreading onto his body - Sam began sobbing aloud in agony, fighting the hold around him.

Tightening his hold around his brother, Dean hunched over, doing everything he could to get Sam to stay still. Sam let out a few more shrill... he couldn't describe them, other than shrieks of horror.

"BITE! THEY BITE! DE', THEY BITE! DON'T LET THEM, PLEASE! PLE-E-EASE!"

Dean squeezed his eyes shut, ignoring the tears leaking out of his eyes as he just held on for dear life. He let themselves be rocked by Sam's jerky movements and endured his brother's nails raking over his neck and chest through his shirt. He curled his fingers around Sam's tresses, trying to keep the both of them together.

All of a sudden, Sam froze completely. Dean knew instantly he wasn't unconscious, because his body was as tense as a bowstring. He dared to lift his head and glance down and found his brother staring at something intensely, his hazy wide eyes pinned, unblinking. Dean followed his gaze - and met with the empty doorway once more.

Harsh, frantic gasps began exploding out of Sam, growing faster and faster by the second.

"Sammy, just breathe" Dean tried, even though he knew it was futile. No matter what he says right now, it will never reach his brother in this state. He curled back around the panicking young man, preparing inwardly for the explosion.

Sam's gasps turned even more frantic, filling up with whimpers of terror, and the kid started his desperate kicking against the ground as he tried to get away from something.

"No!" Sam shouted, his voice higher than ever from unabashed fright. "No! Teeth! NO! TEETH! NOOO!"

Sam's final scream stretched out until Dean's thoughts were ringing from its echo. The young man's back arched as if he was electrocuted, his mouth wide open and his eyes squeezed shut. Dean thought he heard his shirt rip but his ears had no free space for any other sounds. Sam convulsed a couple times during his scream, before his body slumped. Dean grabbed at Sam's head as it flopped back lifelessly, preventing his neck practically bending in half. He tilted it back onto his shoulder then began slapping Sam's cheek gently. His stomach churned at the sight of half-closed eyelids, with only whiteness visible under them...

"Sammy?" he whispered, worry turning into fear. "Wake up, buddy... Sam?"

His palm slid onto Sam's neck, where he discovered the loud, rapid throbs of his brother's pulse. It was too fast for his liking... Too fast to be normal...

Sam must have passed out from panic.

"Okay" he breathed out, collecting his wits with a deep breath. "Come on, Sammy..." He pulled his legs under himself and maneuvered both of them upright. He grunted as he lifted Sam up, feeling his weight in every single muscle of his own body. Sam was much leaner than him, but was still muscular and heavy. Thankfully, he just had to carry him to the bathroom a couple doors down.

Instead of wasting his time with the bathtub, Dean lowered Sam into the shower. He quickly got him undressed then plucked the shower head off, set the temperature to lukewarm and started the water flow.

As he worked, he felt himself beginning to shiver. He knew he was getting soaked, as well, but he didn't really care. The only goal in his mind was to get Sam's fever down and induce the shakes in his brother's body. He let the water slowly trickle over Sam's pale, sensitive skin briefly then he kept it flowing. He leaned his brother against the tiles until he got a small towel and wet it thoroughly. Hoping to still give Sam some comfort, he settled down on the floor and pulled his brother into his arms, leaning him onto his chest. With that, he began the long process of gently wiping down Sam's feverish skin.

If this doesn't work...

No, it has to work! He won't be a witness to another one of Sam's torture! He'll beat this bitch down, even if he froze in his place from the cold water!

A soft, pained moan interrupted his angry thoughts. Dean immediately glanced down and found Sam's unfocused eyes roaming around the bathroom. Dean pressed a kiss onto the kid's forehead and resumed his ministrations. He saw Sam's mouth twist into a grimace as the towel of cool water clashed with his body. To his credit, though, he stayed relatively calm about it. Dean could only bless their luck at that.

And by the time Dean was ready to just collapse back against the wall and pass out, Sam began shivering, teeth chattering from the force of it. Dean squeezed his brother relieved.

Win: for Dean Winchester - but just barely.

* * *

The next battle: sinusitis - the revenge.

A couple days went by since the highest peak of the fever. Sam had been battling it constantly, sometimes being overwhelmed, and sometimes closer to victory. Dean had kept a careful watch on the hills and valleys, but at least the fever stayed under 104. Sam had lost the hallucinations, fortunately, and was mostly out of it, but on occasion he would be aware of his surroundings. And he would always feel his brother's presence.

Dean took up residence in Sam's room, bringing the usual comfy armchair inside and by Sam's bed. Him being there seemed to soothe his brother's muddled brain, so he did everything he could to keep Sam calm.

Another upside, which Dean took as a win: Sam was eating again. Nothing too hard, mostly soups, and was drinking Gatorade and water alternately to avoid another bout of sickness, too. Although, the basin was kept next to the bed, just in case. However, since he was still really weak, Dean had to feed him every bit of sustenance he could take. At least he grimaced in annoyance from time to time at being treated like an invalid, which Dean took as a sign of his brother getting better - and he never would've thought it would be the highlight of a long day.

One afternoon Dean was delivering the next bowl of soup for dinner, when he heard the rattle of Sam blowing his nose. For the first instant, he froze in his tracks. It seemed like decades ago since Sam had been ordered to bedrest because of a simple cold. Dean shook his head and continued his way to Sam's room.

The kid was hunched over, shaking fingers pressing the familiar handkerchief to his nose. Dean smirked at the almost relieving sight, but it melted off when he caught the frown deepening on his brother's brow.

As Sam wiped at his nostrils and leaned back with a frustrated huff, Dean placed the bowl onto the nightstand and sat onto the edge of the bed. He waited for his brother to acknowledge him, which he did after a pathetic sniff and a wince of pain.

"Hu'ts..." Sam rasped out, barely any sound emerging from his lungs.

"Where?" Dean asked, immediately laying his palm over Sam's forehead. It was on the warmer side right now, so he estimated his temperature around 103.5.

"M' head" Sam's pout was just enhanced by the nasal tone of his voice, caused by the blockage in his nose. Dean could also see the familiar swell of Sam's cheeks.

"You wanna steam it out?"

Sam looked at him with such hopeful misery that Dean smiled adoringly.

"Let's get some nutrients in you" he picked up the bowl as he spoke. Sam licked his lips with a small giddy smile, and Dean's heart fluttered in excitement: Sam was showing his hunger now - and some life reigniting inside him. He could only hope they were now on the last stretches of the path to recovery.

And for the first time since the fever, Sam managed to clean out the bowl in one go without nausea.

"Alright" Dean nodded, stroking Sam's hair with a proud smile. "I'll get the herbal steam ready."  
***

"What the hell are you doing here?"

Sam jumped slightly as he glanced up at his brother. The green eyes were narrowed, glaring at him angrily, only softened up by the worried frown always present on his face.

"G-G-Got b-bor-r-r-red" Sam stuttered out, his job harder because of his chattering teeth. He rested his weight onto the wall of the corridor so he could wrap his arms around his torso without falling over. He had so much trouble producing heat that his shivers could've crumbled his unsteady balance. Even though he had a thick, cozy bathrobe on his pajamas, he felt like he was standing in a snowstorm.

"Then read a book" Dean snapped back, his voice gruff and slightly hoarse. It reminded Sam of all the sleepless nights his brother spent by his side anytime he was injured or sick - and this time was no different. He had seen the armchair next to his bed and the creased blanket haphazardly thrown into it.

"M-M-y ass-s-s's-s num-m-m'..."

Dean sighed in a _'Why do I put up with such a dolt of a little brother?'_ way, but Sam just smiled sheepishly. He missed these little joking, brotherly reactions these days. And his brother looked like he needed some distraction from the exhaustion still digging deep into his brain.

So, when Dean wrapped his arm around him to steer him back into his room, Sam didn't protest - although he would deny later how he burrowed himself into his brother's side, seeking for warmth unconsciously. He would also deny burying his face into Dean's neck for a few seconds - his head just got heavy for a second, it's not like it was comfy and warm there...

"Alright, kitty" Dean murmured gently and a knock on wood broke the pleasant silence around them. Sam was slowly lowered into the chair and turned towards the desk. He couldn't stop the wild shiver of cold attacking his weakened body. The warm hand around his shoulder tightened slightly as the rush reached it. "You cold?"

"As-s-s f-f-f-uck-k-k-k..." Sam hunched over even more, getting fed up with how out of control his body got without his consent. A moment later a thick blanket engulfed his body wrapping him up completely with its weight. Sam wriggled his arms free under it so he could lean onto the table and over the steam when it starts. Dean got to the wardrobe and pulled out a towel - and another blanket. Sam watched confused as Dean shook the towel out and threw it onto the desk then opened the blanket up. The warm cover was draped over Sam's lap then Dean shifted him to the sides so he could tuck it under his thighs then wrap it around his legs carefully.

"Just relax" Dean rubbed at his shoulders soothingly. "It'll get better soon."

Sam nodded erratically, the only kind he was capable of right now. Dean then covered his head with the towel and Sam eagerly leaned forward. At least there will be another source of warmth he could enjoy.

The lid was lifted off with a small clink and Sam hissed as the scorching steam billowed out and into his face. He slid his palms around the pot, just shy of touching it but the waves of heat slowly embraced his cold, white fingers. Sam couldn't wait to feel them oozing into his skin and flesh...

"I'll be right here, Sammy" Dean said, rubbing one last time at Sam's back. Sam nodded slightly, mindful of the towel on his head as he took deep, snot-filled breaths through his nose. The steam gradually settled over his skin, the condensation loosening up the blockage in his sinuses once it was absorbed. He took a long sniff, trying to move the slow process along, but a smack on his shoulder made him jump.

"Don't inhale it!" Dean scolded him then pressed a cloth into his hand: his handkerchief.

"Sorry" he mumbled and lifted it up to his nose. The rush of snot practically exploding out of his nose was probably the best feeling he ever experienced in his life. The constant ache in his cheeks and head eased up a little and he let himself soak in the steam some more, hoping to get the pressure to disappear.

Before he knew it, Dean had his hand rubbing down his back.

"You think you're done?"

Sam let out a whine of displeasure. He didn't want to leave the warmth...

"You can have a shower after this" Dean suggested and Sam could hear the teasing grin in his voice. "I remade your bed, as well, so you can sleep as much as you want, all cozy in crisp sheets."

That sounded so good...

Sam straightened up slightly and blew his nose out one last time, happy to feel no more blockage in there. As he wiped his nostrils clean, wincing at the raw pain in his sensitive skin, the pot was covered once more and Dean wrapped an arm around him.

"Ready?" the older man asked once Sam pressed the towel protectively onto his face. He nodded and let his brother help him to his feet and lead him into the bathroom. A nice warmth spread over his insides: Dean was the only person he could trust with his safety, even when blinded.  
***

Dean stroked his fingers over Sam's almost dry hair. The rest of the day was spent in silence and peace, Sam practically dead to the world. As soon as the kid was wrapped up tight like a burrito, he was snoring softly. Not even a cannon fire - or the heavy thud of books landing on the ground, courtesy of Dean - could wake him up. But he was fine with that: the more Sam sleeps, the sooner he will get better.

With a swift decision, he grabbed the new thermometer and pressed it gently into Sam's ear. He didn't want to disturb the cocoon of heat Sam was finally able to enjoy. He was still giving praise to the higher powers that he bought this thing on a whim, almost dismissing the urge to do it. It made things so much easier to deal with...

 _101.4_

Dean blinked with wide eyes at the number appearing on the tiny screen. There's no way... Sam was in a hot shower not too long ago and practically cooking all nice and slow under two blankets! There's no way-

He took his brother's temperature again, unable to believe the numbers. There must be something wrong with the thermometer, of course he would get the broken-

 _101.3_

Dean blinked again. And again... And one more time, when the numbers remained the same... Then almost collapsed onto the ground in a fit of hysteric sobs. For the last couple of days Sam's fever had fluctuated between 102 and 104 and last night it jumped up to 104.2, scaring the hell out of him. He had been preparing for another fit of fevered hallucinations and cold showers...

Dean buried his face in his hands, feeling a shiver of his own wrack his body as he tried to empty his mind and just roll with the cards dealt to him... He probably wasn't making any sense in his head, but...

Finally... Finally...

He could feel it in his gut, which has never failed him so far when it came to sickness...

Finally...

Win: for Dean Winchester. The fever was defeated, at last.

* * *

The next battle: the final cleanup.

Dean yawned aloud, before shaking his head and continuing his whistling. An old radio was crackling with an upbeat pop-rock song that he didn't bother to switch off. It was good background noise for his good mood and for washing the dishes. As a girl's voice belted out the chorus, he began tapping his foot to the slow rhythm of the song.

"Since when do you listen to Avril Lavigne?"

The plate he was scrubbing slipped out of his grip as Dean jumped: the raspy voice came out of the blue behind him. He whirled around with wide eyes, his heart beating a mile a minute.

And looked into Sam's incredulous stare, hazel-green glinting gleefully as the younger man smirked.

"Jeez" Dean sighed out, glaring at his brother halfheartedly. "Give me a freakin' heart attack, will ya?"

"Sorry" Sam replied, leaning against the doorway. "Didn't mean to interrupt your... alone time." Dean glanced at the radio still gently serenading on the counter then took in his little brother carefully. The kid was still a little hunched, but his face was void of any pain lines and frowns, only showing some fatigue that Dean himself was feeling. He was still in pajamas, his hands hiding in the pocket of the bathrobe. However, Dean could not find any sign of shivering or fever, and his nose was only flushed from all the previous abuse by the handkerchief.

"Shut up" Dean finally replied, not even bothering to turn off the radio. "It's a catchy song."

"Yeah" Sam nodded, his eyes softening up. "The older ones tend to be."

"And how do _you_ know who sings it?"

Sam huffed out a chuckle.

"Like I said: old songs tend to be catchy." Dean thought he could see some redness creeping into Sam's cheeks, and this time it was definitely a blush of embarrassment. That made him grin with a raised eyebrow. Sam rolled his eyes at the teasing. The older Winchester loved that he could pull his brother's leg without saying a word.

"How're you feelin'?" Dean asked just before a yawn decided to crack his jaw in two. When he managed to look back at Sam, the kid looked slightly glum.

"Much better" Sam answered softly and pinned his gaze onto Dean's. "Thanks to you."

"Nose?" Dean decided to ignore the pity-party his brother decided to throw. Sam huffed, fully aware of the segue.

"Only a little stuffed."

"Head?"

"Fuzzy but pain-free."

"Stomach?"

"As good as ever." Sam had the first signs of The Bitch-Face appearing on his features. "Are we done with the roll-call, Sergeant?"

Dean wanted to snap back a snarky remark, but was again interrupted by a yawn. When he was able to see again, he wanted to stab his eyes out just to not see his little brother's guilty look... And Dean must be getting tired, judging by the imagery his mind was resorting to.

"Dean..." Sam started and Dean _really_ wished he didn't. "I'm sorry-"

"I guess 'Shut up' is goin' on the list now" Dean mumbled, rubbing at his face wearily. Sam frowned confused.

"What list?"

"The list of recordings I have to make to stop wasting my breath uselessly."

Sam's jaw dropped in surprise and for a moment Dean thought his brother will explode in irritation or anger.

Instead, the kid began laughing.

"You're so infuriating" Sam said, still chuckling, which took the edge off of his words.

"Takes one to know one, Sammy" Dean responded instantly. He turned back to the sink, happy that he had been finishing up when Sam had shown up. After he emptied the sink, he shut off the radio and made his way towards his brother, yawning one more friggin' time. At this rate his face is gonna split open.

Sam pushed himself upright and turned to follow him out, but the sudden shift of direction sent him reeling against the wall. Dean, reflexes always better than a cat's when it came to his brother, grabbed Sam's arms to steady him. The younger man lifted a hand up to his eyes with a moan of discomfort.

"You should get some rest, buddy" Dean couldn't help the tender tone. Sam became instantly white from the vertigo, making him look vulnerable once more. "Just a couple hours and you can return to all 'no nonsense, all business' demon hunter again."

Sam didn't move, even as his brother tried nudging him forward, presumably still recovering from the dizzy spell. Then he slowly lifted his eyes, blinking hard and trying his vision and balance out.

"Dean?" the kid's voice was cautious but hopeful.

"Hm?"

"You think... Amarra and Cas will be fine for one more day?"

Dean frowned at the unexpected question. He needed a couple seconds to realize what his brother was asking.

"Don't worry" he muttered, rubbing Sam's arm reassuringly. "They'll still be missing tomorrow."

Sam nodded and finally the two made their way to Sam's room.

"You're gonna sleep, too, right?" the younger man asked as he climbed under the blanket.

"Oh, yeah" Dean didn't even pretend to be reluctant. "I'm two seconds from just collapsing into a snoring heap right here right now. I'll just pack up in here then I'll sleep in my own bed."

"Good" Sam mumbled and while Dean tidied up the room and carried the armchair out, he blew his nose out one last time. When Dean returned one final time, tucking him in, Sam smiled before he let sleep overtake him.

He only remembered his brother's hand carding through his lanky tresses on his way in.  
***

Dean let himself collapse into his own bed, the memory foam greeting him like a woman's gentle embrace, he just had enough awareness to pull the blanket around himself before falling into darkness with a smile of triumph on his face.

Win: for Dean and Sam Winchester.

The war was finally over.

 _The End_

* * *

 **So, how was it? Not too long, I hope?  
**

 **I'll take some time to work on the next set of prompts, but as soon as one is done I'll post it. :D I'll try to keep it in the order they came in, but also to post at least once a week, if that's okay with you guys. These five were given to me in February, that's why they came out faster, but now they're gonna slow down, because I need to gather the plots and thoughts together on them. I already have ideas, so don't worry!**

 **Until then, have fun with my - and any - other stories!**

 **See you soon!**


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